Laws of Motion
by Suilven
Summary: Scully could hear the echoes of her high school physics teacher in her head: An object in motion tends to stay in motion unless acted on by an external force. She could relate. Her life was moving in an endless circular orbit around Mulder, made so much worse by the loss of the X-Files and the presence of Diana. Something needed to change, and she knew that it had to be her.
1. Chapter 1

_This story takes place somewhere around season 6, but I've taken a few liberties with when certain conversations actually took place. Sort of AUish in the sense that we're going to ignore Emily and downplay Scully's focus on her infertility. Diana and Spender are currently in control of the X-Files. For Stella, this is well before the Paul Spector case._

* * *

 _Newton's First Law of Motion states that objects continue to move in a state of constant velocity unless acted upon by an external net force._

Scully's first view of London was an endless sea of scattered lights in the pale grey of early dawn. Her left ear popped, her right one stubbornly remaining muffled, as she forced a yawn and shifted in her seat to lean closer towards the window. The Dramamine she'd taken before the plane had even taken off was out of her system now although she still felt the last lingering remnants of its medication-induced drowsiness. The flight had been a smooth one, and she was grateful for it, as minor a blessing as it would seem to most people. She'd never liked flying, even as a child, and liked it less and less as the years had gone by. Give her a car any day…

Even though she'd slept, she still felt exhausted, worn through like the knees on an old pair of jeans. She'd jumped at the chance to get away from D.C. when the departmental reminder email about the British Criminology Society conference had showed up in her inbox a few weeks ago, thinking that some time away might be just what she needed. When she took time off and stayed home, it was always too easy to get pulled back in. If her mind drifted to the details of a case, knowing that the case file was accessible with just a few clicks of a mouse or, worst case, a drive to the office, was far too tempting. And, just as frequently, if not more so, Mulder was likely to show up at her apartment with flights and hotels already booked, eagerly shoving a folder full of notes into her hands for her to read on the way.

Not that any of that was likely to happen at the moment. Now that the basement and its contents, such as they were, had been appropriated by Jeffrey Spender and Diana Fowley, it seemed like Kersh's primary goal was giving her and Mulder the most mind-numbingly tedious work he could dredge up for them to do. Needless to say, she found it somewhat ironic that the monotony of the work she'd been given wasn't the driving factor for her desire to get away for a few days. No, that was for an entirely personal reason.

She grimaced like she had just swallowed a live grasshopper.

No, the bitter truth was that it was getting more and more difficult for her to keep her temper under control around Diana. Of course, Mulder was blindingly oblivious to what were patently blatant attempts to manipulate him, to position Scully as a skeptical outsider, to draw him back into a neat little partnership of just the two of them, like they'd been before she'd even known him.

Mulder wasn't stupid, he could tell how much Scully disliked the other woman, how her hackles went up at the mere mention of her name. But, that didn't stop him from defending her or from trying to convince Scully that Diana _was_ on their side, that she was trying to help. Scully bit down on the corner of her lip until she could taste the hint of iron on her tongue. Bullshit.

Mulder might be clueless to the way Diana's touch lingered on his arm or the way she always stood too close behind him when she visited him at his desk in the bullpen, leaning over his shoulder with a falsely careless laugh as she adjusted the knot in his tie, but she wasn't.

It made Scully volley back and forth between — and on the worst days, experience them all simultaneously — the feelings of nausea, of a fuming sort of fury that was like a simmering pot in her belly with the steam rising up and out the roots of her hair, and of painful stabs of self-doubt that made her feel like she was fourteen again.

So, when the conference invitation had shown up after three completely unnecessary trips to bathroom in the span of an afternoon in order to avoid having to watch Diana simpering all over Mulder, she'd booked her flights without a second thought.

She had almost a week here — two days for the conference and then the rest booked off as vacation time in accordance with the not very subtle memo she'd received from HR explaining that her banked time had exceeded the maximum number of days allowed and suggesting she take some time off, preferably immediately. Didn't she know that the government had to limit its financial liability to its employees by ensuring that people didn't store up months of vacation and overtime and then expect to be paid out? Wasn't it true that their records indicated that it had been over a year since her last vacation day and wasn't it the recommendation of the FBI's own psychiatrists that all field agents take a minimum of three days vacation every six months to prevent burnout and fatigue? Perhaps, if she didn't respond to their memo quickly, they could helpfully speak to A.D. Kersh on her behalf and book some time off for her?

She'd promptly scheduled the extra vacation days and moved her flight home accordingly. It wasn't worth arguing with them, and maybe it would actually help with the way she had been feeling lately.

Thankfully, she didn't need to do much at all today. Get checked in at the conference hotel, take a quick walk to stretch her muscles after the long flight and get her bearings… maybe an unhurried soak in the tub. The organizers of the conference had scheduled an informal mixer in the hotel lounge as a come and go type of event that evening, so maybe she would pop down and have a glass of wine or a gin and tonic if she felt like it.

Her list of things she was _not_ going to do today was fairly concise: not talk to Mulder, not think about Mulder… well, specifically not think about him and Diana. Not think about Diana full stop. She was definitely going to need that drink later if she hoped to do that.

With a sigh, she let her head fall against the chill of the window and clutched the arm rest for emotional support as the plane circled lower, preparing for landing.

* * *

Scully toyed with the blue plastic straw, disturbing the ice cubes that had settled to the bottom of her drink. Well, she was here. Away from work, away from Mulder, away from the sour taste of Diana and the lingering residue of mistrust and betrayal. If only she could take her thoughts and put _them_ on an airplane and send them halfway around the world while she was at it. She'd had the quiet day she'd planned, but she'd fared rather miserably on her list of things she wasn't going to do.

She gave the ice another morose jab with the straw and then took a sip of her drink. She hadn't even been here for a full twenty-fours yet. Maybe her head just needed longer to catch up with her body. The condensation from her glass had pooled into a ring of water on the surface of the wood, and she traced around it with her finger to wipe it away before setting her glass down again. It made her think of another bar, another time. A jeweled ouroboros eating its own tail as it went around and around again.

"Have you ever felt like getting in the car and just driving? Leaving everything behind. Just driving, until there's no more petrol, in the hopes that you've ended up somewhere you ought to be – anywhere – just to not be where you are right now?"

Scully glanced up at the woman who was now standing next to her at the bar. She wasn't sure what had caught her off guard more — the fact that she hadn't noticed her approach or that her comment was remarkably close to the truth. She spent a moment to take in her immaculate appearance, her poise, her confidence. Used to being in charge. Decisive. Organized. Comfortable being in control. She noted that the woman appeared to be taking her in in much the same way.

"That's an odd way to greet a stranger."

The woman tilted her head slightly in acknowledgement. "Perhaps. May I join you?"

Scully shrugged her shoulders and gestured and the empty chair beside her. "Sure."

The woman slid into the chair and signalled to the bartender. "Single malt scotch. Neat." She then angled her body towards Scully and extended a hand. "Stella Gibson."

Her fingers were cool as she squeezed them briefly. "Dana Scully."

"American? Are you here for the BSC conference as well?" The bartender set a tumbler down next to her and Stella gave a brief nod of thanks without taking her eyes from Scully's face.

"Yes, to both questions. I'm a field agent with the FBI, but my background is in forensic pathology."

Stella brought the glass to her lips and took a slow sip. "I'm with the Metropolitan Police. Detective Chief Inspector."

They sat in silence for a moment, the drone of chattered conversation around them filling the brief lull. Stella drank again, Scully mirroring her a moment later.

"Is this your first time to London?"

"Yes." Scully nodded, rolling the top of her straw between the tips of her fingers. "The conference was a good excuse to finally get to come here. I've always wanted to."

"Are you here just for the conference days?"

"No, I'm staying a few extra days afterward as well. Mandatory vacation." She couldn't help the wry upturn at the corner of her lips as she raised her eyebrows at Stella. "Well, not really, but it might as well be. Figured I might as well spend them here as opposed to at home."

Stella swirled the amber liquid in her own glass before draining the last of it and signalling to the bartender for another. "And where is home?"

"Washington, D.C. now, although I grew up all over the place. Navy brat. What about you?"

"Been here my whole life. Never wanted to go elsewhere." She slid the empty tumbler across the bar and pulled the newly filled one over to occupy its place. "So, if you don't mind me asking, what had you staring into your glass as though you hoped it held all the answers if you merely looked hard enough?"

Scully couldn't help the snort of laughter that escaped. "If only it was that easy."

Stella leaned back in her chair, crossing her legs and smoothing her black pencil skirt over her thighs. "Do you want to talk about it?"

Scully shook her head. "No, I'm fine. It's fine." She tucked a few strands of loose hair back behind her ear. "Just work stuff. I'm hoping that this time away will give me a chance to clear my head a little."

"It will consume you if you let it. The work," she clarified at Scully's expression. "I think anyone in law enforcement knows that feeling. How the things you see, the things you've experienced, linger at the edges of your dreams until one day they start to seep into the everyday." Scully felt like Stella was looking right into her, through her, with a careful control that reminded her of lioness, although she didn't feel threatened by it. Stella leaned forward slightly, her voice growing quieter. "There's a danger there, when it becomes too big to lock it up in your office at the end of the day and then, eventually, it starts to follow you home." She blinked slowly and sat up straight once more before taking a sip of scotch. "I'm on mandatory leave at the moment as well."

"Are you married? Family?" Scully asked, even though she was quite sure of the answer already.

"No. I've no interest. My work is enough. How about you?"

Scully was quite sure that Stella knew her answer already as well. "No. Between work and my partner there isn't any time or energy left for that."

"Work partner?" Stella inquired, and Scully nodded affirmatively. "Have you been together long?"

"Almost seven years now." She straightened the straw and drained the watery remains of her gin and tonic. "Feels like a lifetime."

"I'd imagine. I've worked mainly in teams, and you often work with the same people at one point or another depending on the case, the specialities needed, and who's available. I don't know that I'd much like working with the same person so intimately for such a long time." She paused as Scully tried to catch the bartender's eye, but he was busy with a noisy group at the end of the bar that had just come in. "I would think that you would start to lose perspective after a while."

Scully gave up on trying to get the bartender to notice her and sighed. "You have no idea."

"What's your partner like? Are you close?"

Scully just laughed. "I don't even know how to answer that. It's like an arranged marriage in a way, I suppose. He permeates every area of my life, whether I want him there or not. We've had our ups and downs, like any partnership, but we work well together for the most part. He's dedicated, passionate, about the work we do." She hesitated as she searched for more adjectives, attempting to banish the hint of pink rising in her cheeks by sheer will alone. "Very intense. Driven. He can make leaps of logic that would make your head spin, and he's right often enough to be a little cocky about it. Maybe more than a little, but he doesn't let it get to his head. He's harder on himself than anyone I know."

She knew that Stella hadn't missed the blush from the way she was studying her, but she didn't comment and deflected her gaze toward the bartender, catching his attention with minimal effort and indicating Scully's empty glass with a tilt of her head toward it and a nod. Scully had a fresh drink at her elbow a minute later and then Stella spoke again.

"Are you personally involved with him?"

The choice of words made her wish she'd ordered something stronger, like the scotch Stella was drinking, wanting something that would burn all the way down if she took a huge swallow.

'You're making this personal,' he'd said. Words that still stung, despite it all. She'd thought it was.

"I'm sorry," Stella said smoothly. "You don't have to answer that if you don't want to."

"No. It's fine." She stirred her fresh drink, realizing that she was, in fact, staring into as though the clarity she sought was buried beneath the cracking cubes of ice, just waiting to be brought to the surface. "It's… complicated. He's my best friend, I'd do anything for him and I know he'd do the same for me."

"I'm sensing there's a 'but' that follows that statement." Stella reached out and lightly touched the back of her hand; the briefest caress of acknowledgement. Scully glanced up to meet her eyes, seeing compassion there, and gave a tiny grin.

"That's the worst part about people like us who profile for a living. They pick up on everything."

Stella cracked a wide smile, and Scully couldn't help but join her. "You know as well as I do, I'm sure, that it's impossible to turn off… except when it comes to our own lives and behaviours, of course. We're as capable of self-delusion as anyone else. Perhaps more so…"

Scully felt her smile fade. Wasn't that the truth… "I'll drink to that," she said softly, and the pair of them raised their glasses, touched them lightly together, and then drank.

They chatted for another hour or so about nothing in particular, and Scully caught herself starting to hold back yawns. Aside from her medication-induced sleep on the plane, she hadn't had a proper sleep in close to forty-eight hours.

"Well, I should probably get going before I fall asleep right here." Scully laughed as she stifled another yawn. "I've really enjoyed talking to you though, so I promise, it's not you!"

Stella smiled, putting her hand over top of Scully's where it rested on the bar. "Don't apologize. I should be heading home as well." She gave Scully's hand a light squeeze, her fingers trailing away as she reached for her small black purse that was looped around the back of her chair. She unclasped it and reached inside, pulling out a business card and a pen.

"Here." Stella flipped the card over and scrawled two phone numbers on the back of it before handing it to Scully. "My mobile and my home number, if you want to meet up for dinner or drinks before you head home."

Scully took the card, glancing down at it briefly before tucking it away in her own purse. "That would be great. I'd like that. Were you planning on coming to the breakfast tomorrow?" It was the usual conference fare — an opening address and welcome speech for all the attendees and a key note speaker from Interpol.

"Yes, hopefully I'll see you there." Stella stood up, smoothing out her skirt, although her calm blue eyes lingered on Scully's face. "It was nice to meet you, Dana."

"You, too."

Scully watched her as she gracefully maneuvered through the people at the bar, noting the number of heads that turned to watch her go. The bartender seemed to be hanging off her every word as she paid her tab. She leaned in close to speak directly into his ear, and whatever she said evidently shocked him as he turned a bright shade of scarlet before sputtering a reply back to her. Stella merely shrugged, saying something else that Scully couldn't hear, and then tucked her purse strap neatly over her shoulder as she left. Stella exuded a kind of confidence that Scully envied. Sure, she thought she was able to project the same thing, but she'd always felt a bit like an imposter. For Stella, it just seemed like a natural state of being.

Scully blotted up the moisture that her glass had left on the bar top with the corner of a napkin, and then rose wearily to pay for her own drinks so she could head upstairs and collapse into bed. If she had enough energy, maybe she would shower first, but she was leaning towards leaving it until morning.

The colour had mostly faded from the bartender's face, although he still looked a bit blotchy. The curse of the pale complexion, she thought ruefully with personal understanding. "I'd like to settle my tab, please," she said as she reached into her purse for her wallet.

"It's, uh, all paid up."

She looked up from rifling through the unfamiliar bills. "I'm sorry?"

The bartender was definitely still flustered. "The woman…" He gestured towards the exit Stella had taken moments before. "The one you were talking to, she paid for both your drinks."

"Oh!" Scully blinked once. "Well… thanks." She slipped her wallet back into her purse. She hadn't expected that. "Have a good night, then."

She would have to try to find Stella at breakfast and thank her. But, for now, all she could think about was how good it was going to feel to crawl into bed.

* * *

 _This was written for this year's NaNoWriMo, so the whole thing is written (yay) but still needs a lot of revising (boo). Thank you, as always, to my amazing beta, Josie Lange, for agreeing to take on this monstrosity. :D_


	2. Chapter 2

Scully woke up ahead of her alarm, her internal rhythms muddled by the time change. She didn't feel particularly tired, she had slept well, and it was nice to not be rushed. She had a longer shower than normal, even washing her hair, which she didn't often do in the morning, and then lounged around a bit in the complimentary terry cloth robe while her hair dried. She took a pen from her bag and read through the descriptions of the panels being offered, circling the ones she thought would be of most interest.

Once her hair was mostly dry, she used a blow dryer to keep it straight as she brushed it out, and then picked through the clothing she had brought to put together an outfit that was reasonably comfortable for a long day of sitting and more sitting. She settled on a pair of black trousers and a matching blazer with a red silk blouse underneath for a bit of colour. Gathering up her folio, she slid the panel summary booklet inside along with the pen and looked over at the clock. Breakfast started in fifteen minutes; not too early to head downstairs.

One of the conference rooms had been set up with circular tables, and a buffet-style breakfast was set up along one wall. There were a few people milling about in the hallway outside, and even more inside, already helping themselves to breakfast and choosing seats. She glanced over the room's occupants but didn't see Stella, so Scully made her way to the line for breakfast and helped herself to a bowl of oatmeal, which she sprinkled with raisins and slivered almonds, a cup of strawberry yogurt, and a banana. She set it all down next to her folio at an empty spot, and then went back for a cup of coffee.

When she returned to the table, Stella was setting a yellow notepad with a black pen clipped to it on the table in the spot directly next to hers. She greeted Scully with a soft smile, one that was so welcoming that Scully couldn't help returning it.

"Good morning," Stella said as she straightened up. "Did you sleep well?"

"Not bad. Hotel sleep, so never as good as home, but it was very comfortable." She didn't add that, compared to the usual places the Bureau put them up in, this place was downright extravagant for having a spotlessly clean bathroom, a mattress with functional springs, and a carpet that she wasn't concerned about walking on with bare feet.

More and more attendees were filing in now, and Stella glanced towards the growing line for the breakfast. "I'd better hop in the queue before there's nothing left. Be right back."

Scully had finished her oatmeal and was halfway through her yogurt by the time Stella returned. She'd tried her best to keep from staring at her while she was standing in line, but her eyes felt drawn back to her each time. She stood out, not in a garish way, but in the way she held herself, her poise, her confidence that wasn't arrogance. She seemed like one of those rare people that was completely comfortable in her own skin, unlike Scully, who often felt like she was a writhing mass of anxiety hiding behind a mask. If Stella felt the same way inside, she was a true master at hiding it.

Stella took a bite of scrambled eggs and began neatly slicing her sausage into even pieces. "What panels are you attending today?"

Scully slid her folio over between them and opened it, pulling out the summary booklet. "Mostly the ones from the forensics track. I need to accumulate a certain number of continuing education hours as part of my accreditation."

"I expect I'll primarily be at the police psychology panels. I've been involved with quite a few serial sexual assault cases over the past few years, and I think it could be useful."

Scully nodded. "My partner's background is in psychology, with a focus on profiling. It's certainly provided a lot of insight in many of the cases we've worked on."

They chatted comfortably as they ate, and Scully was sorry when the speaker from Interpol began his talk and the room went silent to listen. He was actually very interesting, with some fascinating anecdotes about his background and his work, but Scully would have much preferred to continue her conversation with the woman seated next to her.

Half an hour later, after polite applause, they were all standing up, ready to make their way to the various conference rooms where the first panels of the day would commence.

"Hey, I never got a chance to thank you for paying for my drinks last night," Scully said as she gathered her things.

Stella was running her fingers through her hair, loosening any tangles, as she smiled at Scully. "Don't mention it. I enjoyed talking to you."

"Well, I think it's only fair if I return the favour, if you felt up to it, after the formal dinner tonight." She pretended her stomach didn't feel the tiniest bit fluttery at her boldness. There was a connection between them, she'd felt it almost immediately last night, and her gut feeling was that Stella had felt it, too.

"Sure, I'd love to."

"Great! Maybe I'll see you at lunch."

Stella reached out and touched her hand, their eyes meeting and lingering just a moment longer that convention dictated. "I certainly hope so."

Scully didn't let out the breath she was holding until Stella was already walking away.

The first day of the conference went by quickly, amidst a steady stream of panels broken up by brief breaks for more life-giving coffee and food. Scully looked for Stella at lunch but didn't see her. It wasn't unexpected as the lunch period had been arranged to allow the attendees from the same specialization tracks to attend together. While she had an enjoyable conversation with a pathologist from Finland and another from Belgium, she found herself missing the rapport that had come so naturally between her and Stella. At least she had dinner — and drinks afterward — to look forward to.

By the end of the afternoon, she had the beginnings of a mild headache, and she was feeling very ready to call it a day. Thankfully, she had two hours to spare before dinner, enough to time to stretch out on the bed with her eyes closed for twenty minutes, check her work email on her laptop, and debate about calling Mulder. It was lunch time in D.C. though, so he probably wasn't at his desk, and it wasn't like she had anything specific she needed to ask him about, and it felt silly to think of calling him for the simple reason that she wanted to hear his voice. Besides, hadn't she resolved just yesterday to take some time for herself and do her best _not_ to think about him? She forced herself to take a deep breath, expelling the air back out of her lungs in a controlled exhalation.

After a while, she roused herself from her torpor and padded into the bathroom to fix her hair and tidy up her makeup. She studied herself in the mirror, re-buttoning her blazer and turning from side to side. Should she change? She hadn't brought a lot of options with her, trying to travel as light as possible so she could bring her smallest suitcase. Maybe she could ditch the blazer?

She unbuttoned it again and took it off. Better. She undid the top two buttons on her blouse, tugging on the sides to adjust the fit, and then re-centered the gold cross of her necklace. Eyeing herself critically, she thought it was an improvement. A little more casual but still dressy enough to be professional.

The conference room that had been used for breakfast and lunch had been reorganized for dinner, with the circular tables nowhere in sight, and long rectangular banquet tables in their place. Folded place cards had been placed at each spot, and Scully had to bite back a groan. Assigned seating. She had been looking forward to sitting with Stella, having missed her at lunch. Oh well, hopefully her forced dinner companions would be interesting.

She skimmed through the list by the door to find her name… table four. She didn't recognize any of the names at her table, not that that was much of a surprise. There were only a handful of people here from the FBI, as most of the attendees were European. She sat down at the place marked with her name — Dr. Dana Scully, M.D., Federal Bureau of Investigations, United States — and tried not to sigh. Reaching for the glass pitcher in front of her, she poured herself a glass of ice water and took a sip. She was the first one at her end of the table, and she smiled politely at the group at the other end.

"I despise assigned seating, don't you?" Stella plucked up the place card to Scully's left and replaced it with one that read: Stella Gibson, Metropolitan Police, United Kingdom. "I'll be right back." She walked over to one of the tables further down the row and dropped the place card into the empty spot before returning to take the seat next to Scully. She rested her hand on Scully's shoulder as she sat down. "There. Much better, don't you think?"

Scully grinned, wishing she'd thought to do that. "Much," she agreed.

They both cheerfully neglected the dinner companions sitting on opposite sides of them and had an engrossing discussion that ranged from anthropology to improvements in laparoscopic surgery to voodoo.

"I'm very ready for that drink now," Stella declared, folding her cloth napkin neatly alongside the remains of her bowl of berry trifle. "Shall we?"

"Sounds good." Scully nodded, placing her own napkin beside Stella's and pushing her chair back to stand up. She was feeling loose and relaxed after two glasses of wine and one of the nicest meals she could remember having in a long while.

In the lounge, they ordered drinks and then settled themselves in a pair of overstuffed leather armchairs arranged around a large gas fireplace in the center. It was much more comfortable than their spot from yesterday evening by the bar, and a welcome break after the spine-twisting, ass-numbing conference chairs they'd both been sitting in all day.

"This is nice." Scully took the straw between her lips and took a pull of her drink while folding one leg comfortably beneath her. "I needed this." She took a moment to take in her companion. Velvet black cigarette trousers. A white satin blouse with a deep vee neckline the stopped right between the curves of her breasts. Her skin was pale, like Scully's, but it seemed to glow like ivory. Scully was sure her own cheeks were already pink and splotchy from the wine she'd had at dinner. How did Stella manage to look so undeniably, but subtly, feminine? Mulder would have been falling over his feet at the sight of her, she was sure of it.

Once more, they talked late into the evening, with Scully paying for their drinks this time. She felt slightly giddy, more giggly, and she was sure the feeling could be attributed more to Stella's company than to just the alcohol. She'd paced herself, even after having eaten a huge meal, and she felt pleasantly buzzy by the time they said their good-byes and Scully went upstairs to collapse into bed.

As she changed into her pajamas, washed her face, and brushed her teeth she was surprised by how good she felt. Not simply good. Happy.

She clicked off the lamp next to the bed and burrowed under the warm, soft comforter with a contented yawn.

Yes, coming to London had been an excellent idea.

* * *

 _Huge hugs and a giant thank you to my wonderful beta, Josie Lange!_


	3. Chapter 3

The second day of the conference passed much the same as the first, although Scully's head felt significantly fuller by the end of it. She was glad it was only two days and not three, as she felt her brain had reached its limit for absorbing new material. Still, it had been a welcome change to immerse herself in the medical aspects of her job again, and there were at least a handful of new techniques that she planned to investigate further once she was back home.

She tucked her sheets of handwritten notes into her folio and stretched, easing the kinks out of her back that were inevitably worse after too many hours of sitting in the same uncomfortable chairs. In the corridor outside conference room, she was happy to spot Stella by the elevators, and she made her way over to her before placing her hand on her arm to get her attention.

"Stella — hi."

Stella turned, and her eyes warmed at the sight of her. "Dana." She paused, studying her, and Scully realized she was still holding on to Stella's arm. She let go more abruptly than she intended, feeling slightly flustered, although Stella seemed unperturbed. "How were your panels today?"

Scully shrugged and tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "Good. Interesting. It's a lot of information to process all at once, though. I think I'll feel better looking at it all with fresh eyes in a few days."

Stella made a noise of agreement. "I know exactly what you mean."

"I forgot to ask yesterday if you were planning on coming to the wind-up dinner tonight or not… I know it was listed as optional and, since you're local, I wasn't sure if you would be there."

Stella glanced at the handful of people around them waiting for the elevator. "About that…" She took Scully's hand and led her away from the crowd. "I was thinking. What do you say we skive off the official dinner and go out somewhere nicer, just the two of us?"

Stella's hand was comforting, folded delicately around her own. She hadn't let go, and Scully didn't particularly want her to.

"You know what? That sounds great. I think I've had my fill of small talk about post-mortem analytical toxicology."

Stella laughed. "Great. There's a good Italian place not terribly far from here. I wouldn't mind walking, if it's all right with you."

Scully smiled. Her chest felt like it was full of helium balloons, soaring up and out of sight. She gave Stella's fingers a cautious squeeze. "That sounds perfect. Ready when you are."

* * *

"They call me the 'Ice Queen'. At work."

Scully wasn't sure how they'd arrived at this topic, but here they were.

She was good at pretending that the moniker didn't bother her, but the sting of the first time she'd heard it had never fully scarred over. She knew, on a rational level, that she shouldn't let it get to her, that it was just a stupid nickname. She didn't even know who had come up with it or at what point it had come into general use, although she had a strong suspicion that it had been Agent Edwards, a narcissistic asshole who couldn't fathom the possibility that she wasn't interested in him.

He'd been persistent to the point that she'd almost allowed herself to entertain the notion of filing a formal complaint against him, but she hadn't been naïve enough — even then — to know how _that_ would have turned out. The FBI was still an old boy's club and it would have been her word against his, and the black and white reality of it all was that her words were worth less. The blemish would be on how _she_ was perceived, boys will be boys, after all, and then she would mysteriously start to find getting her job done more difficult. Lost paperwork. Delayed lab results. Accidental omissions of information as the boy's club closed ranks around him. No, she knew very well what the outcome of a formal complaint against him would have been.

So, she'd learned to deal with it. She avoided the floor he worked on unless it was absolutely necessary that she be there. She tried to never be in a situation where she was alone with him. She avoided the friendly invitations for drinks after work if she knew he was going to be there, too. It had been a relief when she had been assigned to the X-Files, knowing that there was almost no chance that she would ever have to work directly with him again.

As the months had gone by, she'd begun to relax, let her guard down. Sure, she'd been asked out on occasion by a few people in other departments, but they had all accepted her polite refusals without pursuing things further. She was gaining ground in the Bureau now, proving herself to be a resourceful and capable field agent in addition to her forensic pathology skills, and she was proud of the solve rates that she and Mulder had achieved.

It had been a shock when she'd found herself outside the copy room, on what had previously been an ordinary and unremarkable day of catching up on paperwork and expense reports.

"Fuck, who's the red head that's working downstairs with Spooky now? I'd love to get me some of that. Do you think the carpet matches the drapes?"

A male voice, one she didn't recognize. She'd stopped, frozen, in the hallway right next to the open door.

"That's Dana Scully. Enjoy looking, man, 'cause that's all you'll ever get to do. I heard she's fucking frigid. They don't call her the Ice Queen for nothing."

Another male voice. Also no one she knew.

The first man let out a laugh. "Probably a lesbian then. Figures. What a waste."

She hadn't been able to listen to any more and had turned around and headed back towards the elevators with her head held high, her back straight. So what if her legs had been shaking and she'd had to lean against the side of the elevator car all the way down? She'd sat at her desk for the rest of the morning with her head down, determined to not think of anything that wasn't related to the case notes directly in front of her as she typed. Mulder had commented on her flushed cheeks, asked if she was feeling okay, but she'd stayed at her desk the whole goddamned day and left at five, just like she always did. If she cried a little in the shower that night, no one else ever had to know.

Stella set her fork down on the edge of her plate and dabbed at the corner of her mouth with her napkin. "They think it's so simple to divide us up, don't they? Virgins and whores." She took a sip of her wine, the merlot leaving a blush of purple on her lips as she set it back down. "If you fuck them, you're a slut. If you don't, you're a cock tease. There's no middle ground."

"Yeah." Scully sighed, spearing a chunk of roasted aubergine on her fork. "It just gets tiring after a while, you know."

"I do."

They ate in silence for a few minutes before Stella spoke again.

"So, what are you planning to do on your mandatory vacation days?"

"I honestly don't know." Scully shook her head lightly. "I'm staying here one more night on the taxpayer's dime and then I've booked a cheaper hotel for the next few days. I thought about going up to Scotland. I've always wanted to see Edinburgh."

Stella nodded in agreement. "You should. It's lovely. Don't tell anyone I said this, but it might be nicer than London." She winked conspiratorially. "It's only about four hours away by train."

It was tempting. She could cancel her hotel booking here, book something in Edinburgh and take the train there tomorrow. She might as well… she was here already, and when was the next time she might get the chance? Still, she was enjoying Stella's company, and staying in London might mean another opportunity to meet for dinner or to even spend part of a day together. Being with Stella felt so natural, like they were old friends catching up, rather than people who had just met.

"Maybe I will," Scully said after a moment. "And, how about you? Any plans for your mandatory time off?"

"I hadn't decided on anything concrete." She tilted the stem of her wine glass and swirled the contents gently. "I have to meet with the departmental psychiatrist again tomorrow morning, but no plans beyond that."

They had spent enough time together by now that Scully felt comfortable enough to ask, "Why are you on leave?"

"I was involved in a physical altercation with a suspect during his arrest. It was serious enough to warrant a brief procedural inquiry to ensure there was no wrongdoing on behalf of the police force that could jeopardize the eventual outcome of his trial." Stella drained the last swallow of her wine. "Standard policy, but no less frustrating."

Scully laid her cutlery neatly across her plate to indicate that she was finished and grinned at Stella. "It could be worse. Have you ever had to be in quarantine?"

Stella shook her head and gave a small eyebrow raise in return. "Dare I ask?"

Scully thought about the swarms of green glowing bugs in the forest, about the horrific fungal stalk she'd seen erupt from O'Neil's neck on Mount Avalon, about the alien virus and Antarctica… she wouldn't even know where to begin without sounding completely and utterly insane. That must be how Mulder felt all the time. With a wry laugh, she shrugged her shoulders. "Honestly, I don't even know where I would begin. Let's just say that it's worse than mandatory leave. About a million times worse."

Scully declined dessert, but they each had another glass of wine followed by tea, both of them reluctant to let the evening end. It seemed odd — and sad, if she was completely honest with herself — to think that this might be the last time she might ever see Stella. But, eventually, they paid for their meals and went out into the chill damp of the fall London air.

"Do you want to get a taxi?" Stella asked as Scully finished buttoning her long overcoat just outside the restaurant. They had walked the twenty or so blocks here earlier, but it was colder and drearier now that night had fallen.

"I'd rather walk, if it's okay with you. After being cramped up in those awful chairs, I think my muscles would appreciate the stretch. Were you planning to come back to the hotel or were you going to catch a cab here?" Scully asked.

"I'll walk back with you. I'm sure my muscles would appreciate the stretch as well."

They walked a few blocks without speaking, Scully still somewhat in awe of the history and architecture of the buildings around them. It would be strange to have grown up here, to take it for granted that they were walking through a city with layers upon layers of historical significance everywhere you looked — rulers, poets, artists, scientists... How many feet over thousands of years had walked over the same ground that she was walking on right this moment?

She cast a sideways glance at Stella, admiring her profile. She so clearly belonged here. Like an extension of the city itself. Strong. Confident. Layered. Scully looked straight ahead for a handful of steps before glancing to the side once more, this time contemplating the slope down the angle of her jaw to the pale line of her throat. She was beautiful in a way that simply _was_ , an infallible argument. Stella turned her head to meet her gaze, and there was a sudden bloom of affection in her eyes that made Scully turn away quickly, embarrassed at being caught out as she felt herself blush.

"Just so you're aware," Stella said after a moment, looking over at her once more, "I like you, Dana. Very much." Her words were matter of fact. A statement. An opening.

The blush that had begun to fade blossomed once more beneath her skin like a cherry blossom dropping its petals. She felt a little like the flower-strewn branch, trembling in the breeze.

"I like you, too," Scully answered, meeting her eyes with determination. She was never one to back down due to nerves. "I've really enjoyed our time together. If you're free another day this week and wanted to meet up again, I would love to."

"Actually…" Stella stopped and fully turned to face her. "Would you be interested in going to Edinburgh together, seeing as we're both at loose ends for the next few days?"

Scully was sure the surprise was more than evident on her face as her eyes widened.

"Not what you expected?" Stella gave a small smile and then took Scully's arm in her own as they began walking again. "Think about it tonight and let me know. My appointment tomorrow should be over by ten. We could meet at King's Cross station and likely be in Edinburgh by three or four."

Scully mulled the idea over as they walked, her initial shock waning and turning to something that was more like… excitement. The more she thought about it, the more the idea appealed to her. It would be nice to be there with someone who knew the city, and she felt at ease in Stella's company. She'd like the chance to spend more time with her…

By the time they'd reached the hotel, she'd made up her mind.

As they stopped near the glass doors of the front entrance, Scully paused and said, as casually as she could, "So, I'll see you tomorrow at King's Cross station. We can plan for around eleven, to give you time to get there in case your appointment runs over?"

Stella took her in for a breath and then broke out in a surprised smile that made Scully flush with an unexpected warmth, happiness like a shot of brandy burning down her throat and spreading heat into her limbs, her fingers, her toes.

"Wouldn't miss it," Stella said quietly. "I'll book us a hotel, nothing extravagant, but something nice."

"That sounds great."

They were still standing close together, Stella's arm intertwined with her own, and Scully could feel her heart flitting about inside her chest like a caged songbird. She didn't move as Stella leaned in and kissed her gently on the mouth, a fleetingly soft touch like the brush of a bird's wing in flight.

"Good night, Dana. I'll see you tomorrow."

Scully nodded, fighting the urge to touch her fingers to her lips. It had been a fraction of a second, but it felt as though someone had neatly turned her over like upending an hourglass.

"Good night."

Stella released her arm and walked towards the taxis lined up on the street in front of the hotel, giving a nonchalant nod to the driver as he opened the back door for her to step inside. Scully was still standing there as the cab drove away, watching Stella's hand raise in farewell from behind the glass of the window.

* * *

"Mulder."

"Hey, it's me." She twisted the curls of the phone cord between her fingers, trying to not sound too pleased at the sound of his voice. It had been easy to justify the phone call to herself — it was only fair to let him know where she was going in case something urgent came up.

"Hey, Scully." His tone brightened noticeably. "How's London? How's the conference going?"

"It's been good. Wet. It rained most of yesterday, but today it's been this foggy drizzle that sort of hangs there in the air, like you're perpetually walking through a rain cloud."

He chuckled. "I know exactly what you mean. I think I spent most of my time at Oxford continuously damp. So, have you decided what you're going to do with your last few days? Big Ben? Buckingham Palace? You know, the Tower of London is supposed to be one of the most haunted—"

"I'm going to Edinburgh."

"Oh, yeah? I've never been. Heard it's a beautiful city though."

She felt a flush creep into her cheeks at the memory of Stella's feather-light kiss and cleared her throat. "Yeah, I'm looking forward to a few more days without Kersh. Speaking of, how are things at the office?"

"How do you think?" He made a grumble of disgust and she could hear the squeak of his leather couch as he adjusted his position. "The usual bullshit. But I have been making some progress with cross-referencing the fragments of files we pulled out of the office after the fire and the stuff you and I had backed up on our laptops." There was the quiet crack of a sunflower seed. "The Gunmen have this new scanning software that they think can…"

Scully leaned back against the headboard and listened to Mulder talk, throwing in the odd hum of agreement and asking questions. She had already changed into her pajamas and had her legs tucked up under the blankets. It almost felt like they were on a case, with Mulder excitedly working through theories while she studied crime scene photos until her eyes were too heavy to keep open.

"You still awake there, Scully?" She could hear the amusement in his voice. "You're awfully quiet."

"I'm awake." Her eyes were closed, and she was comfortable and warm.

"Sure, you are." She could picture the way his eyes always crinkled at the corners when he teased her. "Get some sleep already, would you?"

"You, too," she murmured. "What time is it there anyway?"

"Almost seven. Just finished my delicious dinner of microwaved leftover cashew chicken and beef lo mein and then Plan 9 From Outer Space is on at eight. Livin' the dream, Scully. Livin' the dream."

"Hmm," she agreed. "Sounds like it."

"Have a good time in Scotland and I'll see you when you get back."

"Okay." She yawned. "Night, Mulder."

"Sweet dreams, Scully."

With the warm memory of his voice in her ear, she rolled over and the set the phone back into the cradle on the base before clicking off the bedside lamp and cocooning herself up under the thick quilt. She was fast asleep within minutes, long before she had a chance to ask herself why she hadn't told Mulder about Stella and the fact that she wasn't going to Edinburgh alone.

* * *

 _E_ _xtra super special thanks to Josie Lange for bein_ _g the best beta ever and catching all of my stupid mistakes! :D_


	4. Chapter 4

Scully found it hard to take her eyes off the landscape now that the train was out of the city. There was so much green, and the villages that went by seemed like something out of a different time. It was so far removed from Washington that it almost felt like she'd been whisked out of one world and dropped into the lap of another.

"I've always preferred the train to flying," Stella said quietly into her ear as she leaned into Scully's space to peer out the window alongside her.

"Me, too. You have no idea." She felt a strange combination of calm and excited, but none of the usual nervousness she had on airplanes. It felt ridiculously freeing to be doing something simply because she wanted to. "I hate flying. Thank God for Dramamine."

"I don't have to do it much, thankfully."

"I do." Scully made a face. "I'm envious of the European railway system."

Stella was a warm and comforting presence by her side as the pair of them watched the world roll by outside the window, neither one feeling the need to fill the silence. Scully gave her a brief glance when Stella's hand found her own, twining their fingers together as it was the most natural thing in the world.

"This okay?" Stella asked with a slight lift of her eyebrow.

Scully looked down at their hands. It felt good, it felt right. "Yeah." She nodded, seriously tempted to lean her head against Stella's for a moment, but she settled for a gentle squeeze of her hand instead as she met her eyes before leaning back against her chair and tilting her head to gaze out the window once more.

Scully caught herself dozing off more than once during the four hour train ride. When it happened for the third time, the book she'd been attempting to read slipping from her slack fingers to fall to the floor, Stella picked it up and handed it back to her with a smile.

"I guess I'm more tired than I thought," Scully said with a smile of her own.

"Sleep then. I don't mind."

"Maybe I will. Just for a few minutes."

Scully rested her head against the window, wishing she had something to ball up and use as a pillow without sacrificing the warmth of her jacket, but the gentle vibration of the glass was soothing and rhythmic. With her eyes half closed, she watched Stella go back to her own book. She had her hair pulled back in a ponytail today — it was the first time Scully had seen her look slightly more relaxed, her hair not in its usual cascade over her shoulders — and it made her look softer, younger. She rarely wore her own hair pulled back for the same reason. Looking younger and softer wasn't exactly ideal when you were battling against decades of ingrained professional misogyny. It looked nice on Stella though, especially the way the few strands that had escaped were curling loosely around the frame of her face.

She was beautiful. Scully had always thought that women were inherently more beautiful than men, although she could certainly appreciate a good-looking man. Like Mulder, she thought hazily through a slow blink of her eyes. Tall and lean with just enough muscle to give him definition, but not too much. His eyes that could be hazel or mossy green or sometimes nearly a golden brown. His hair, especially when it was wet and sticking up all over like a hedgehog's quills after he'd had a shower but it hadn't had time to dry.

Her eyes closed, and she listened to the lullaby around her — the rumble of the rails beneath them, the low hum of conversation, the occasional rustle of turning pages. She dozed on and off, never fully falling asleep, but hovering in the halfway lands between consciousness and dreams, until they arrived.

* * *

The hotel Stella had booked, the New Caledonia, was closer to a guest house or bed and breakfast than a formal hotel, as it had only ten rooms spread over four stories. It was part of a traditional tenement building which, although it looked rather unassuming from the outside, was beautifully decorated inside. The door at the entrance was enormous, originally constructed to allow for a sedan chair to pass through it, so the wealthy wouldn't have to dirty their feet by stepping on the road outside.

Simultaneously posh and inviting, the lobby area was completely unlike the rundown, side of the road, motel variety of American lodgings that Scully was used to, with a floor of black and white checkered marble and an antique desk repurposed as a check-in counter, although with a very modern looking computer perched on top of it. There was a small dining room in a room off the lobby along with a sign that the included full Scottish breakfast was available between the hours of six thirty and ten every morning.

They each paid for their rooms and then lugged their suitcases — Scully was grateful that she'd packed light enough that she'd only brought the smaller of the two she owned — up the ornately carpeted stairs to the third floor. Their rooms were next to each other, with an adjoining door between them, and Scully was happy to see that each room had its own bathroom, including a bathtub.

Scully took full advantage of the bathtub, and the assortment of complimentary scented bath oils, before meeting up with Stella in the lobby two hours later to find somewhere to go for dinner. They chose a random street in the direction of the Royal Mile and ended up, after about twenty minutes of walking, at a delightful Indian restaurant. The restaurant was friendly and cozy, the food was delicious, and Scully felt loose and relaxed by the time they had worked their way through the more than generous portions.

"I think I need to walk for a few hours to burn this off." Scully groaned. "More like a few hours of running." The spice from the vindaloo was still making her lips burn.

Stella tugged her black wool coat around her and knotted the belt around her waist. "The Princes Street Gardens aren't far from here, if you wanted to walk for a bit."

"Yes," Scully agreed readily. "Let's do that."

They wandered through the park at a leisurely pace, stopping to appreciate the various monuments and statues. Scully liked the city already. It felt welcoming, and it seemed to carry the weight of its history easily. It didn't feel like anything she was remotely used to in the U.S., but she didn't feel like she was walking through a museum either.

As they walked and talked, Scully found herself opening up about what it was like working with Mulder and the strange aspects of the X-Files cases they'd worked on over the past few years, although she left out the details of Melissa's death, Duane Barry, her cancer, and the specifics of Samantha's abduction. In her case, she didn't want to get bogged down in bad memories and, in Mulder's, she felt that it was his story to tell if he chose to, not hers, and she wasn't about to break that confidence.

No, it was far more fun to discuss Satanic cults and circus sideshow attractions and the bizarre effects of planetary alignments. Stella had a dry sense of humour and shared Scully's pragmatic skepticism, listening avidly, picking apart the details of each case, and asking insightful questions. It was the most fun Scully had had in a long time, although it made her feel acutely aware of how much the loss of the X-Files had affected her. She missed the challenge of it, of never knowing where they could be headed off to at a moment's notice; just a quick phone call from Mulder asking her to meet him at the airport and then they'd be on their way into the middle of something that might be as mundane as teenagers playing a prank or as inexplicable as an unknown parasite that had been buried for millennia beneath the ice.

It was dark by the time they headed back to the hotel, and Scully was beginning to feel tired, despite her pseudo-nap on the train. It felt like it had been a much longer day than it actually had.

"I know it's early, but I think I'm nearly ready for bed," Scully said as they walked up the stairs to their rooms. It felt strange to be calling it a night already, though, so she offered, "Or, did you want to see if there's a movie on TV or something that we could watch together?" They had reached their respective doors and Scully paused, key card in hand, as she waited for Stella's answer.

"Sure. Let me change into something more comfortable, and then I'll come over to your room and we can see what's on."

"Sounds good." Scully smiled. "See you in a few."

Once in her room, Scully stripped off her blouse and bra and dress pants, swapping them for her favourite pair of blue satin pajamas made up of loose flowing pants and a long sleeve button-down shirt. She quickly washed her face using the bar of rose-scented soap by the sink and ran her brush through her hair to take out the worst of the tangles. She debated briefly about brushing her teeth but decided against it. She could do that right before bed.

There was knock on the adjoining door.

"Come in, it's open," Scully called from the bathroom. She'd unlocked it when they'd first checked in after years of accumulated habit with Mulder.

Stella had changed into a flowing silk nightgown in pale peach with a matching robe, and she smiled at Scully as she came out of the bathroom. She'd taken her hair out of the pony tail it had been in all day, and her hair now hung loose around her shoulders. "Shall we see what's on?"

"Sure." Scully snagged the remote from beside the TV and handed it to Stella before sitting down on the bed. "You pick."

Stella sat down on the bed on the opposite side, adjusting the pillows against her back as Scully did the same until they were both seated comfortably side by side, leaning against the headboard. "Anything in particular that you like, don't like?" Stella asked as she turned on the TV and began cycling through the channels.

"No sci-fi, I get enough of that at work."

Stella understood, after the evening's conversation, and chuckled. "Fair enough."

There weren't a lot of choices, but they settled on Breakfast at Tiffany's, one of Scully's favourites, which had fortunately just started. Part way through, they ended up pulling the covers back and over their legs, and it was lovely and snug. They were sitting close together, legs touching underneath the covers, and Scully had to again resist the urge to rest her head against Stella's shoulder.

For the second time that day, she felt her eyes grow heavy as each blink became longer and longer. She tried to pay attention to the dialogue, but Audrey Hepburn's voice had become a gentle murmur in the background. Her head drooped lower.

The sweet scent of jasmine.

Something soft beneath her cheek.

Her final memory as she sighed contentedly was what might have been a brush of the blanket, might have been her imagination or, possibly, might have been a gentle kiss on her temple.

* * *

 _As always, huge thanks to my amazing beta, Josie Lange! Thank you for all that you do!_


	5. Chapter 5

She was lying prone on a table, a bright light suspended above her eyes. No, no, no. Not the train car. Please, not the train car.

She was aware. Awake. Immobile. The smell of chemical antiseptic was both familiar and frightening.

No.

Her arms wouldn't move, but they didn't feel restrained. Simply dead weight. Her legs, too. Everything was cold, her skin a greyish blue hue, and she was completely naked. Exposed to the chill of the room, she should have been prickled with goosebumps, the fine hairs on her arms rising in a futile attempt to keep her body temperature from dropping, but her skin was as unresponsive as the rest of her. She couldn't even shiver.

She was propped ever so slightly upright by something that had been wedged underneath her chest. The only thing she seemed to be in control of was her eyes, but there was nothing to see that brought any comfort. Concrete walls, shelves. A counter top with a large stainless steel sink in the center. A door with a small rectangular window at eye height.

Not the train then.

An autopsy bay.

A muffled groaning noise erupted from her throat and pushed past her slightly parted lips.

Why was she here? She couldn't remember. Where was Mulder? She was hyperventilating, her nostrils flaring with panic and a need to draw as much air as possible into her lungs. Was he hurt? Was she? How was she going to get out of here? If she could just force her limbs to move, to do anything…

Tears of frustration seeped from the corners of her eyes. Who was doing this to her? Why wasn't Mulder here to help? Had something happened to him? She was going to pass out if she didn't get her breathing under control, but did it even matter at this point?

There was a click from the door, and the sound echoed in the stillness of the room, silent except for her panicked breathing. Someone was coming. Friend or foe? The door swung open and two gowned figures entered the room. Blue scrubs. Face masks. Hair nets. Gloves. Her fear crept up her throat like bile, burning in its wake.

They didn't speak, didn't even seem to notice she was there. The shorter of the two began organizing the instruments on a small wheeled cart. The other just stood and watched. She moaned in fear. Worse than the train car. This was going to be worse.

The one by the cart finished their inventory and nodded in seeming satisfaction that everything was in order before wheeling it over towards where Scully lay on the table. A woman. Brown eyes that were cool with more than strictly clinical detachment. Scully knew her, but couldn't seem to place her, her thoughts too panicked to allow her to think clearly. She reached toward the cart and picked something up. A scalpel. It glinted under the glare of the circular light that hung above her.

No. She wasn't dead. Couldn't the woman tell that she wasn't dead? Scully's gaze flicked to the other person at the back of the room, who was in the process of lighting a cigarette although they hadn't moved from their position. The figure drew their face mask down and took a draw from the cigarette as the smoke from the tip spiralled lazily into the air.

"We begin with a Y-shaped incision extending from the front of each shoulder here," the woman gestured with a gloved fingertip, "to the xiphoid process located at the inferior end of the sternum. The incisions go around the breasts in this case, giving the arms of the "Y" a curved appearance." She traced the lines around each side of Scully's chest with the gentleness of a lover before she went on. "The incision is then carried down to the pubic bone, making a slight deviation to the side to avoid the umbilicus." Her finger continued its downward path as she spoke. "The incision must be deep enough to reach the rib cage in the chest as well as the abdominal cavity in the abdomen."

The figure in the back nodded in understanding and then the woman leaned forward over Scully's body as if she were considering whether to begin on the right or the left but, instead, she carefully tugged her mask down to expose her mouth with the non-scalpel holding hand.

Diana.

Oh, God. No. This couldn't be happening. Where was Mulder? What had she done with him?

"Don't worry, darling," Diana whispered. "It's only pain. And there will be so much of it."

"Mmmmuuu…" Scully managed to get out but Diana placed a finger tenderly over her lips.

"Shhhh… You don't need to worry about him. He's got me. He doesn't need you. Don't you see? He's never needed you. You were just in the way, holding him back."

Diana stood up, sliding her mask back into place.

"Ready or not, Dr. Scully."

And then there was a blinding shock of pain on her upper left side. She was screaming, a tortured sound from deep within that was expelled with as much force as her body could muster, trying to protect itself, over and over again. She couldn't even close her eyes to try and escape into her head. There was only the light and the pain and the carefully controlled strokes of the scalpel in Diana's hand.

She knew she should be bleeding — she was alive! — but there was no spray of crimson, no pressure in her veins. Maybe she _was_ dead, but then why did it hurt?

The pain was unrelenting but the hope that the shock would eventually render her unconscious didn't come to pass. Through it all, she felt and wept and screamed.

Diana put the scalpel down and took a single step backwards when she'd finished to admire her handiwork. "There. That wasn't so bad, was it?" She looked at Scully with a thin smile. "Actually, I'm sure it was. I hope it was."

"Now," she spoke more clearly so that her voice would carry better towards the back of the room, towards where the smoking man stood, "after the Y-incision is made, the skin is then pulled back to expose the rib cage and the muscles of the neck. Like so." She bared her teeth as she dug her fingers into the top of the incision she had just made and tore the muscle fibres apart as she pulled.

More pain. It was just more pain. She wasn't going to die. She was already dead and this was Hell and she would suffer for her sins. Diana undressed her inner core, folding back the slabs of skin and flesh to make her more than naked. She was fully exposed now. Nowhere left to hide.

Diana was panting with the exertion of it by the time she'd finished, sweat gathering on her brow.

"As you can see, the chest cavity is now fully exposed. An electric saw is used to cut through the ribs on the lateral sides of the chest cavity, which then allows the sternum and the attached ribs to be lifted out together."

There was a grinding hum as the saw whirred to life, the small circular blade spinning so quickly that the toothed edges looked perfectly smooth. How many times in her life had she wielded these same tools? Her gaze drifted to the ghostly trails of smoke, to the tiny lit tip on the end of the cigarette just beyond the bright lights and the pain and the smell of her own bones burning as Diana continued on in her singular task of destruction. There was no fight left in her. It was pointless to try and struggle. There was no scrap of hope left to be found.

The low buzz of the saw ceased, and Scully watched with detachment as her chest plate was removed and set aside. "There. That wasn't so bad, was it?" Diana smirked at her. "No, wait. I hope it was. Almost done now." Her mouth stretched into a mock pout. "And here we were having so much fun."

She picked up the scalpel once more. "All that remains is to remove the soft tissue that is still attached to the posterior side of the chest plate, so that the heart, within the pericardial sac, of course, is exposed."

There was the smooth slide of the blade within her chest.

The man at the back of the room dropped what was left of his cigarette, crushing it beneath his shoe.

"And here we have it: the heart. Not much to look at, is it?" Diana held the gelatinous reddish mass in her gloved hands as the man walked towards her, towards the gutted remains of Scully, not dead/not alive, sprawled out on the table.

The heart gave a feeble beat, clutching and releasing, as Diana looked back at the approaching figure. "I've gone to all this trouble. Do you want it?"

But it was Mulder who stepped into the light, his hazel eyes curious as he took Scully's heart from Diana's outstretched hand.

No. No. It wasn't him. It couldn't be him. This was some sort of trick.

"Mmmuuh…"

She could smell smoke and blood and the hint of his cologne. A tear rolled down the frozen snowdrift of her cheek.

He wasn't even looking at her. He was turning his hand left and right, studying the tissue with a clinical sort of precision. Diana was standing close beside him, her hand resting on the top of his shoulder as she tilted her head to watch him. There were streaks of blood on his shoulder from her fingers.

It hurt. Oh God, it hurt. The pain of his indifference was so much worse than the physical agony. She wanted to die. Why wouldn't they just let her die?

"No," he finally said, giving the heart a tight squeeze between his fingers. "Why would I want this?"

Diana shrugged. "Do what you want with it then."

No. She couldn't even close her eyes. She didn't want this. She didn't want this!

Mulder took a step back and dropped her heart. It fell to the floor with a wet, squelching thud.

Diana looked at Scully and gave her a triumphant smile. "What'd I tell you? Why would he want you when he has me?"

Scully's eyes darted from Diana to Mulder, but he was staring at the floor.

"Do it." Diana's voice was a low hiss. "You've already done it."

Mulder didn't move for a long moment until, at last, he nodded. "You're right. You're always right."

Then he lifted his foot and crushed her heart beneath his perfectly polished matte black leather shoe.

And Scully screamed.

* * *

Scully bolted upright in bed, wrapping her hands as tightly as she could around her chest, like she was trying press the flaps of her butterflied rib cage back together as she struggled to draw in a breath. She was whole. She was okay. But the words felt false. She wasn't okay. It was all a lie. She couldn't breathe. She couldn't breathe because she'd been hollowed out like a jack o'lantern, her guts spilling out across the silver table.

She didn't even register the adjoining door between her room and Stella's being thrown open as the ragged scream she hadn't even been aware she was making gave way to the sound of harsh, aching sobs.

"Dana." Stella crawled onto the bed and gathered her into her embrace, gently pulling her head to her chest; Scully went willingly, weak and pliant in her arms. Enfolding her as closely as she could, Stella began to stroke the soft skin at the edge of Dana's hairline where it was damp from the combination of tears and perspiration. "It's all right. It was just a dream. Stay with me. You're safe. Everything is all right." She kept her cadence even, her voice low and steady.

Gradually, her sobs lessened as she came back to herself, and her fingers moved to cling tightly to Stella's. Stella gave her hand a brief squeeze and Scully returned the gesture weakly. "Welcome back," Stella said gently.

Scully sat up, still within the confines of Stella's arms, wiping at her eyes and nose inelegantly as best she could. "Sorry I woke you."

"Don't be ridiculous."

Scully's clenching grip on Stella's hand had lessened, but she made no attempt to free herself from the circle of Stella's embrace, relaxing into it as the tension ebbed from her muscles, her pulse still bolting about like a rabbit across a field.

"They should include the nightmares in the job description," Stella said quietly, and Scully huffed out a sound that was half laugh, half sob. "I find it helps me to write them down when I wake up. Putting them to paper makes them feel less nebulous; robs them of some of their power."

Stella's legs were awkwardly folded beneath her, so she leaned back and lay down, pulling Scully down alongside her. She felt reluctant to let go of Stella even though she rationally knew she should as they repositioned themselves into a more comfortable embrace, ignoring that the covers were a tangled mess beneath them.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"No. Not particularly."

"All right."

They lay together in the darkness until Scully relaxed fully, her body dropping from the panic of a flight or fight response to the dull shock of exhaustion as her hormone levels crashed back to normal. It should have felt awkward, being wrapped up in Stella's arms — they hardly knew each other, really — but there was a connection there she couldn't name, that she couldn't identify. The touch of Stella's fingers in her hair was soothing. She felt like a bow string that had snapped, the sudden lack of tension making her feel almost weightless in its absence.

"Do you want me to stay?" Stella asked.

"Yes." There was no hesitation.

"Let's get under the blankets, then. I'm freezing."

They separated and sat up, maneuvering the covers around until they could both slide beneath them. Scully wasn't sure what to do next. She had liked the sensation of being in Stella's arms, but wasn't sure what she should do now that they were lying side by side underneath the blankets. But then Stella's hand found hers and she was tugging Scully towards her.

Scully rolled over and Stella lifted her other arm to allow Scully to nestle in next to her as close as she wanted, their heads facing each other on opposite ends of the same pillow.

"Stella?" Scully said after they had settled and were still.

"Yes?"

"What are we doing?"

"Whatever feels right." She leaned in and kissed Scully on the lips. It was gentle and undemanding but lasted too long to be merely a kiss between friends. "But, for now, let's try to get some sleep."

* * *

 _A huge thank you to my beta, the always lovely Josie Lange!_


	6. Chapter 6

Scully had woken up alone, and she'd been grateful for the chance to gather her thoughts before Stella had tapped on the adjoining door, asking if she was ready for breakfast. She'd worried it might be awkward — what she'd felt in the darkness withering in the harsh reality of daylight — but it hadn't been. Not at all.

"So, I was thinking about some shopping today, if you're up for it?" Stella neatly buttered her piece of toast, scraping the edge of the knife across the crisp surface of the bread. "I thought it might be nice to dress up tonight, go for dinner, maybe dancing."

"Shopping sounds good," Scully agreed. She couldn't remember the last time she had gone shopping for fun, just for the pleasure of it. "I didn't pack anything dressy, just… functional."

She felt like functional described most, if not all, of her wardrobe these days. What was the point of having something fancy if it was only going to sit there at the back of her closet gathering dust? For work, she tended to choose clothing that disguised her figure, something she'd started doing unconsciously as a way of being taken seriously in a male dominated profession. When she wore loose legged pants and bulkier blazers, she'd quickly discovered she was less likely to be asked by male agents to fetch them a coffee or treated like she couldn't possibly know what she was doing. It was infuriating.

And, at home, there was no point either. Pajama pants and tee shirts. Workout clothes. Clothing that was practical, served its purpose, and nothing more.

Her one allowance to herself was shoes. She'd always loved them, forever stealing the high heels her mother wore to church and clomping around in them in feet that were far too small. So, now, whenever she purchased yet another ill-fitting article of clothing for her professional wardrobe, she would indulge herself with a pair of sleek black leather pumps with three inch heels or brown suede boots that clung suggestively to her mid-calves. She still couldn't bring herself to spend the kind of money that a pair of Manolo Blahnik's or Jimmy Choo's would cost, but she revelled in the style more than feeling like she needed an expensive brand name on them to make her happy.

They finished their breakfast and then made their way toward Princes Street, Edinburgh's well-known shopping district.

"So, what did you have in mind?" Stella asked as they approached the ornate doors of one of the higher-end shops. Scully couldn't help marvelling at the details — rearing stags and thistles — that had been carved into the door frame. And, it seemed like every store, every building, they were all like this. It made Washington seem so utilitarian and boring.

"I'm not sure," Scully said as she pushed the door open, still admiring the door frame as they passed through it. "A dress I suppose." Definitely not practical — she would never wear something like that to work — but if she was going to get something fun, just for her, that would be the logical choice. Besides, she had more than enough pant suits, despite how quickly they tended to end up ruined by blood or grass stains. And, she rationalized, it might be nice to have something to remind her of her trip here.

Stella steered her towards the racks of dresses at the back of the shop like she had done this hundreds of times before. She probably had, Scully thought.

"Anything in particular you like or don't like?" Stella asked, running her fingers over the material of the first dress hanging from the rod as she slid it back to study the one behind it. "Colours? Cut? Material?"

"I don't know." Scully felt a bit out of place, like she didn't really belong in a store like this looking at dresses, of all things. "I honestly don't remember the last time I even tried one on. Why don't you get something you like? I really don't need anything."

Stella looked up from the rack of dresses, her eyes softening. "How about simply trying a few of them on? You don't even have to come out of the dressing room if you don't want to." She dropped the hem she'd been examining and gazed at Scully in a way that made Scully feel exposed, vulnerable, like Stella could see all the self-doubt she was trying to hide. "Or we can leave. Do something else. I don't want to make you uncomfortable."

"No, it's not that." Scully sighed. "It's just… overwhelming. I feel like I don't even know where to start."

Stella eyed her thoughtfully. "Would you trust me to choose a few for you to try on? We're very similar in size and height, so styles that flatter my figure would likely do the same for you."

That sounded easier, reminding her of shopping trips with Melissa when they were teenagers, with Missy tossing all sorts of outrageous things that she knew her sister would never wear into the change room just for the fun of it. "Sure." She tried to not sound too relieved. "If you don't mind."

Stella smiled, trailing her fingers down Scully's arm tenderly. "Of course I don't mind. Now, let's see…"

She gave Scully another careful appraisal and then began sorting through the dresses in front of her. Once she had several selected, she turned to face Scully. "Here. Let's start with these."

She handed Scully three dresses, which she then draped over her arm.

"Aren't you going to try anything on?" Scully asked.

"After," Stella said firmly. "Let's do you first."

The salesclerk, who been hovering unobtrusively nearby since they had walked in, swept over to guide them towards the dressing rooms. There was a small sitting area with several plush armchairs arranged in a semi-circle facing a wall with two wood-slatted doors, and along the back wall were an arrangement of full-length angled mirrors. A long wooden sideboard with a coffee pot, kettle, and a selection of perfectly coordinated china cups sat opposite the doors, behind the chairs. An intricately patterned woven rug in hues of muted blues and silvers lay over the hardwood flooring, and there were tiny half moon end tables made of some kind of exotic wood in between each pair of chairs. It was nicer than her apartment by a large margin, Scully mused.

"Can I get the two of you something to drink before we get started?" The saleswoman smiled, showing even, white teeth. She had lustrous dark skin, her hair cut rakishly short, and she looked like she could have stepped off the pages of a fashion magazine. "We have wine, coffee, tea, champagne?"

Scully's eyebrows lifted in surprise, but Stella merely nodded as if this sort of thing happened to her every day.

"Champagne for me. Dana?" Stella smiled reassuringly at Scully, clearly trying to set her at ease.

Scully lifted her shoulders in a slight shrug. Might as well live a little. "Champagne for me, too, please."

"Certainly. One moment." The sales clerk walked over to the sideboard and opened one of the lower cupboards to reveal a small hidden fridge, from which she extracted one of several bottles. Scully felt tempted to turn to Stella and ask her if this was for real, and made a note to pay very careful attention to the price tags on the dresses she was about to try on as she wasn't sure if she was even going to be able to afford any of them.

By the time the sales clerk handed her a crystal flute of pale golden fizzing liquid, Scully was feeling more and more glad that she'd chosen one of the alcoholic options. "Thank you." She took a larger than normal sip, crinkling her nose at the effect of the carbonation.

"I can take that for you," Stella offered, and she reached for Scully's glass and placed it on one of the small tables. "Try the red one first." She gave Scully another warm smile, and Scully felt the calm she was exuding seep into her, making her feel a little less nervous. Had Stella not been there, Scully would have headed straight for the doors the moment after she'd walked in. Give her an interrogation or chasing after a fleeing perp any day. This was so far out of her comfort zone… but, that was sort of the point, wasn't it? Was this really that different from her first day at university or at Quantico or at the FBI? Any harder than when she'd taken the elevator down to the basement of the Hoover building and laid eyes on Mulder for the very first time, her first partner? She could still hear the echo of his voice in her memory: Nobody down here but the FBI's most unwanted.

The thought made her feel a little better. She could do this. Of course she could. She was only

trying on dresses, for heaven's sake.

"Okay." She nodded at Stella. "Let's do this."

"I'll leave you to it," said the sales woman with a touch on Stella's arm. "I'll be nearby if you need anything."

Scully went into the change room and hung up the three dresses Stella had selected on one of the hooks — one red, one black, and one ivory flecked with gold. She undressed, folding her sweater and slacks and placing them on the stool in the corner. She stared at herself critically, taking in her plain white cotton underwear and bra. If she was going to get an expensive new dress, she was certainly going to need something prettier to go underneath it.

The red dress was soft like velvet as she shimmied it up. It was tight around her hips, but flared out at the bottom, with short sleeves that covered just the caps of her shoulders. It had a curved scooped neckline well above her bust, but the colour was a cherry red almost bordering on orange, and Scully thought it made her skin look waxy and yellow. The length wasn't quite right either. She'd always been sensitive about the thickness of her calves and, combined with her short stature, she found that dresses and skirts that went too far past her knee seemed to make that fact more pronounced. She turned from side to side, studying her reflection in the trio of angled mirrors. The fit was good otherwise, though, accentuating the narrowness of her waist. After another moment of internal debate, she opened the change room door.

"Well, what do you think?" she asked Stella.

Stella had seated herself in one of the chairs, her glass of champagne balanced in one hand. "It doesn't matter what I think. What matters is how it makes you feel." She rose gracefully and approached Scully, circling around her slowly.

Scully tilted her head as she studied her reflection. "I don't like the colour with my skin tone. Or the length."

"How does it make you feel?"

Scully watched herself in the mirrors, finding herself more drawn to the heated intensity in Stella's eyes than she was in what she was wearing. "I don't know. Feminine, I suppose." She angled her body to look at the way it dipped low in the back, enough to expose the full circle of her tattoo. "I guess it's supposed to be sexy."

Stella shook her head. "Don't choose something that you think someone else will find sexy or attractive. Choose what makes you feel beautiful, and you already know that this isn't it. Why don't you try one of the others? Here, I can unzip you, if you like."

Scully turned her back to Stella and waited. After a moment, she felt her cool fingers at the zipper, but they paused and traced the curve of her tattoo, all the way around the serpentine circle until she reached the zipper once more, and then she slowly tugged it down. The feathery sensation of Stella's touch rippled down her lower spine, making her skin feel like it had been kissed by the champagne's bubbles, and she shivered. "Thanks."

Back in the dressing room, she carefully slid the dress down and rezipped it before placing it back on the hanger. Maybe the black one next… that was the one that had called out to her most strongly when she'd hung them up.

This one had narrow spaghetti straps and a lower neckline that arched around her breasts but dipped low in between them. The fabric was silky and clingy and stopped about three quarters of the length down her thigh. There was a large cut-out section around the waist that had a stretchy black lace sewn in beneath it.

Even with the straps of her bra that were showing, Scully felt a little taken aback by this one. She looked… good. The contrast of the black with her pale skin drew the eye, made her hair colour stand out. She turned to the side, admiring the narrow slit up the left side that revealed a sliver of pale skin on her thigh. Oh, yes. She felt beautiful in this. She turned back to face the mirror, sliding her hands over the curved slope of her hips. How would Mulder look at her, to see her in something like this? Or even Stella, for that matter? The thought made her feel warm all over.

She opened the door of the dressing room, feeling more confident than she had the previous time. She didn't need Stella to tell her she looked good, she knew she did.

"Wow." Stella's eyes widened appreciatively. "You look stunning." She reached over and handed Scully her glass of champagne and the two of them watched their reflections in the mirror as they each took a languid sip.

"I'm afraid to ask how much this is," Scully admitted.

Stella stepped behind her and gently tugged on the neckline at the back, pulling the tag free and listing off the price.

Scully did the rough conversion to US dollars in her head. Based on the extravagance of the store, the price didn't come as much of a surprise. It wasn't as much as she'd been afraid it might be… no worse than a new suit, really. She studied herself in the mirror. She really liked it, and how often did she splurge on herself, really? "I love it," she said quietly. "I think I'm going to get it." She plucked at the strap of her bra. "I'm going to need something nicer to wear underneath though." She grinned at Stella in the mirror.

"Do you want me to pick you some things to try as well?" Stella's voice was smooth and low, and Scully felt her cheeks grow pink. "Have you ever been formally sized? If you haven't, I can assure you it makes a world of difference."

"No, I've, uh, never bothered."

"Do you want to?"

She hesitated and took another large sip of champagne, which was definitely helping. "Sure, might as well, I suppose." At this point, why not?

Stella called the sales clerk over, who seemed very happy to help. She kindly ushered Scully back into the change room before pulling a tape measure from her pocket. The clerk gestured towards Stella with her head as she spoke to Scully. "Did you want me to close the door, or is it fine like this? There's no one else in the store at the moment. "

Scully shrugged. They were all just women, after all. "This is fine."

The sales clerk helped her tug the dress down to her waist, and then took Scully's measurements over the bra she was wearing while chatting away in a friendly manner about how much she was going to appreciate having a bra that fit her properly. Scully wasn't really listening. She was watching Stella watching her, leaning casually against the wall with a focus that didn't waver.

"And, there you have it," the sales clerk finished. "Would like me to make some recommendations?"

"There's no need." Stella gave Scully one last look. "I can go pick out a few things for her to try."

Scully let out a slow breath, surprised by the way her heart was suddenly pounding, like a child playing hopscotch, sneakers slamming against the pavement. She waited for what felt like ages, although it was surely no more than a few minutes, before Stella returned with a selection of expensive looking bras in a variety of colours.

"Here." She passed them to Scully, the flare of heat in her gaze making Scully acutely aware of the fact that she was standing there in just her bra. "I picked you a few different styles from my favourite brand. If you like any of these, they have coordinating knickers as well."

Scully could feel the blush as it spread over her chest and up to her cheeks. She wasn't a prude by any means, but something about being in close proximity to Stella made her feel like she was fifteen and sneaking out to meet Derek Goodwin at the park for some clandestine necking.

"Okay. Thanks." She spotted the white dress she hadn't tried on still hanging up in the dressing room. She had already decided on the black one, so there wasn't much point in trying it on. She unhooked it and handed it to Stella. "Why don't you see how this one looks on you?"

"Sure." Stella took the dress from Scully. "Hope you find something you like." She gave her a wink, and then closed the door behind her.

In the end, they left the shop laden with more bags than Scully had expected going in. She had purchased the black dress along with several new bras — with matching underwear, naturally — and Stella had ended up with the white and gold dress, a lace wrap, and a new bra to round the outfit out.

"Well," Stella said, taking Scully's arm, "I think we've earned ourselves some lunch, don't you?"

"Absolutely."

* * *

 _A huge thank you to everyone reading and an extra special thank you to my beta, Josie Lange, for being the amazing lady that she is!_


	7. Chapter 7

_Newton's Second Law of Motion – force equals mass times acceleration. If a body is in equilibrium, there is zero net force by definition (balanced forces may be present nevertheless). In contrast, the second law states that if there is an unbalanced force acting on an object it will result in the object's momentum changing over time._

Scully was perched on the edge of the bed, the straps of her shoes dangling from her fingers, when her gaze caught on the phone on the nightstand. She hadn't checked in with Mulder since she'd arrived in Edinburgh, and she felt a sudden pang at the thought. It seemed silly to want to call — it's not like she had anything she needed to tell him… there was no case, neither of them was in any sort of danger. Well, in theory, anyway. Who knew what Mulder might have gotten up to in her absence. She knew there wouldn't be anything interesting going on at work, based on the exciting evenings of stakeouts at empty warehouses and days filled with background checks and whatever other grunt work Kersh could come up with that was as mind numbingly boring as possible. Still, Mulder made his own trouble more often than not…

She snorted, letting her shoes fall to the floor and glancing at her watch. She didn't need to meet Stella downstairs for another twenty minutes or so. Enough time for a quick call. DC was five hours behind Edinburgh, making it mid-afternoon there now. And, it was Saturday, so there was a good chance he would be home. She slid the phone closer, picked up the receiver, and dialled his number. If she kept it short, the long distance charges hopefully wouldn't be too horrendous.

She felt uncharacteristically nervous — it was just Mulder, after all — but maybe it was the fact that she was sitting here as made up as she'd been in, well, forever. New dress, new underthings, new shoes… She wondered what the look on his face would be if he could see her right now.

The phone rang in her ear. Once. Twice. By the third long trill, she sighed, feeling more disappointed than she would have expected, and she was leaning over to hang up when she heard the connection click and then his voice, familiar and low.

"Hello?" He was out of breath. Maybe he'd had to run to reach the phone or he was just back from a jog.

"Hi," she said brightly, unable to hold back the happiness at hearing his voice. "How are things there? Just thought I'd check in and make sure you weren't getting into too much trouble."

"What? Oh… no, things are good here. Busy."

"Busy? Doing what? Not more fertilizer, is there? Should be glad I took this week off?"

"Huh?" There was a slight pause and some rustling. "No. No, nothing like that. Listen, Scully, do you mind if I call you back in an hour or so? I've got something going on right now that I need to…"

"Uh, actually, I'm heading —"

There were more muffled noises on the other end of the line and then she heard a woman's voice in the background. "Fox, whoever it is, it's not important now. We need to —"

Scully felt a hot stabbing electric shock of betrayal and jealousy arc down her spine to settle spitefully in the pit of her stomach.

"Is Diana there?"

Her voice trembled and she swallowed tightly, feeling hot with embarrassment.

"Yeah, she just stopped by to drop off some notes on a case she wanted my help with. We're heading out right away to interview a possible abductee who claims to have developed clairvoyant abilities after he was returned. It's a bit of a drive though, so we'll probably end up staying overnight and then driving back tomorrow. I can call you in the car once we're on the road, though, if you —"

She'd felt herself getting more and more angry as he'd talked. _Of course_ Diana was there. _Of course_ she _conveniently_ had a case for him to help with that was _conveniently_ far enough away that they'd have to stay overnight. It made her want to scream or throw up or pull her hair or some equally childish and messy version of all three at once.

"You know what, Mulder? Forget it. Forget I called. I'll see you when I get back, okay?" She clenched her fingers around the edge of the mattress as tightly as she could. She could hear Diana's voice again, but it was too quiet this time for her to make out any actual words.

"Good-bye, Mulder."

She thought she heard him say, "Scully, wait —" but she hung up anyway.

Damn him for ruining her evening before it had even started. She shouldn't have called. God, she was an idiot. With a grimace, she bent down and slipped on her shoes, securing each strap over her ankle. When she had finished, she stood up and walked over to the full length mirror on the wall outside of the bathroom door.

She looked good. Her eyes were bright and her cheeks were flushed, with anger mind you, but that didn't matter. It made her look a little wild. Alive. Intense. Smoothing the creases from the bottom of her dress, she stared at her reflection.

She didn't need him. She didn't need anybody.

She walked purposefully into the bathroom and applied a fresh coat of plum coloured lipstick before slipping it into her tiny black purse. With one final glance at her appearance, she flicked off the main light and grabbed her room key from the desk as she passed by on her way to the door. Her gaze passed over the phone as she pushed on the door handle, sending a fresh flood of anger through her.

Damn him.

She opened the door and went through, slamming it shut harder than necessary behind her.

* * *

For dinner, they'd selected the rooftop restaurant above the Museum of Scotland, which had come highly recommended by the front desk clerk at the hotel. Despite the view from the windows being astounding, Scully was having a hard time taking her eyes off her dinner companion. Stella was effortlessly radiant in the dress she had purchased that afternoon, and she was wearing a pair of drop diamond earrings that caught the light every time she turned her head. Scully could see the heads turning to watch her as they were escorted to their table, although Stella seemed completely unaware — or utterly unconcerned by — the attention she was drawing.

They shared an order of calamari between them to start, lightly battered rings of squid that were crispy and tender, with glasses of white wine that their waiter assured them would pair perfectly with it. The sun was setting, turning the sky over the city into a watercolour painting of pinks and oranges and yellows.

By the time their main courses had arrived, the lamp posts were sluggishly waking up in the city streets below them. Stella had ordered filet mignon, rare, with a side of oven roasted potatoes and pan-fried green beans with a reduction of balsamic vinegar drizzled over the top. Scully had opted for something lighter, a piece of local salmon poached with lemon and herbs on a bed of fresh greens. Neither of them spoke much during the meal, enjoying the companionable silence, the excellent food and wine, and the beauty of Edinburgh laid out before them.

The waiter attentively returned to the table once it was obvious they had finished with their meals. "Would either you care for tea or coffee? Dessert perhaps?" he asked smoothly, stacking their empty plates together and looking alternately between the two of them.

"Tea, please." Stella raised an eyebrow at Scully. "And we'll take a look at the dessert menu." There was a hint of a wicked smile at the corner of her lips.

Scully quirked an eyebrow back at her in response. She was so full, she couldn't imagine having room for something else.

"And for you?" The waiter cast a polite glance at Scully.

"I'll have tea as well. Thanks."

He vanished for a brief moment with their plates and tableware, and then returned with a small maroon leather folio, which he placed on the table between the two of them. "Here you are. I'll be back with your tea in just a moment. If you would like a recommendation, the praline chocolate cake with dark chocolate ganache is exceptional."

When he'd left, Scully stretched back against her chair with a soft groan as Stella picked up the dessert menu and flipped it open. "I can't believe you want to order dessert."

Stella looked at her over the top of the menu and back down again. "Well, I can't believe that you can possibly claim to be full after eating little more than a salad and an esthetically tiny piece of salmon."

"I don't know." Scully shrugged. "I've always been a light eater. I get faint if I go too long without eating, so it's just easier to eat a small amount more often."

Stella placed the menu flat on the table, turning it so that Scully could read it. "What would you order? What do crave when you're feeling particularly indulgent?"

Scully glanced down the list, seeing a few distinctly Scottish desserts like cranachan along with more traditional fare like sticky toffee pudding, apple pie, and a pear torte with a red wine glaze and candied ginger. They all sounded good, but only one touched on her major weakness. "Chocolate," she said softly. "Especially dark chocolate." She touched the wording for the cake that the waiter had recommended and tapped it once with her finger before turning the menu around and sliding it back towards Stella.

Stella leaned in, almost conspiratorially, and Scully unconsciously mirrored her. Stella spoke quietly, holding Scully's eyes with her own. "And when was the last time you allowed yourself to have a decadent chocolate dessert?" She enunciated each word slowly as though she were tasting them.

"It's been a long time," Scully finally answered, her own words feeling thick, like they had to fight through the intensity of the tension building between them to be heard over the sound of her pulse in her ears.

"Then I think you have room." There was a finality there as Stella closed the menu, her gaze not dropping from Scully's.

Scully could feel the air between them shifting, changing; charged like a gathering storm. It felt exhilarating and terrifying. Stella reached her hand partway across the table with her palm up, and Scully found herself caught up in whatever this was that was passing between them — she reached out and took her hand without a second thought. Scully kept her own eyes firmly locked on Stella's even as the other woman's thumb began lightly stroking the back of her hand. There was a challenge of sorts in their combined gaze, and Scully had never been one to back down. If anything, it made her feel stronger, more assured.

"And, here's your tea."

Scully started, not having even registered the waiter's approach, and let go of Stella's hand so that the waiter could set down the tiny silver pots of already steeping tea. "Have you decided on dessert?" he asked after setting down a cup and saucer in front of each of them and then stepping back.

"Yes, we'll have a slice of the praline chocolate cake, please," Stella replied smoothly, handing him the dessert menu.

"Excellent choice. I'll be right back with that for you."

The tension momentarily broken, Scully leaned back a little, releasing the build up of air in a careful, controlled breath. It was a strange combination of feeling both relaxed and on edge simultaneously, and she wasn't sure what to make of it.

"Can I ask you something?" Stella said, one finger pressing down on the small knob on the top of her tea pot to keep it from spilling as she poured tea into her cup.

"Sure." Scully reached for her own tea pot, already looking forward to warming her hands around her cup.

"Do you deny yourself pleasure as a means of control or because you feel you don't deserve it?"

Scully nearly dropped the tea pot, the spout making her cup rattle against its matching saucer before she steadied her hand. A flash of anger flared in her chest, a snarling, spitting wild cat coming to life. She'd had more than her fair share of remarks like that from Mulder and she had already told him, on more than one occasion, exactly where he could take his profile of her and shove it, but she hadn't expected it from Stella. Her mouth hanging open slightly, her eyes burning, she was about to respond heatedly when Stella continued.

"I used to think I didn't deserve it. After… after my father died when I was fourteen, I was full of the righteous fury that the young seem to possess in spades. I blamed him for dying. I told my mother I wished she'd died instead of him. I felt like everything I'd known, that I'd trusted would be there, was gone." She added a small spoonful of sugar to her tea and stirred it thoughtfully before looking over at Scully. "I couldn't feel anything but anger. I was numb, going through the motions because I didn't know what else to do. I started drinking alcohol. Drugs. Sex. It worked, for a while, but it was never enough. The feelings those activities generated weren't enough to sustain me when I was alone."

Scully's irritation had dissipated completely. She hadn't expected Stella to be this open with her; she was still a mystery on so many levels. "And now?" Scully asked.

"Afters years of therapy?" Stella smiled wryly. "I've come to the conclusion that life is too fucking short and unpredictable to deny one's self opportunities for happiness. Have the chocolate cake." She raised her teacup towards Scully and took a sip before setting it down again.

Scully considered her words as she added a dollop of milk to her own cup, stirred it, and then blew on the steaming liquid before taking a cautious sip. She set the cup carefully back down on the saucer.

"It's about control," Scully said finally after another long minute had passed. "I like to plan, to set goals for myself. I've always been focused on the future and on what I wanted to achieve. I chose med school both because I wanted to help people but also because it was one of the most difficult degrees to obtain. I chose my speciality because it was the most challenging. I like when people tell me I can't do something because it makes me work harder, wanting to prove them wrong." She toyed with the handle of her tea cup, running one finger tip over the curve and back again, feeling the temperature gradient go from hot to cool to hot as she went from the top and around in the half circle back to the bottom. "When I set my mind to something, I do it. The pay off at the end is worth the small sacrifices you need to make to get there."

She fell silent as the waiter arrived with the dessert Stella had ordered. "Here you are!" He set the plate down in the middle of the table with a flourish. "Enjoy."

The tall, triangular slice of cake had been laid on its side, exposing numerous layers of rich-looking chocolate cake alternating with thin layers of icing and nuts and the whole plate had been drizzled in thin stripes of chocolate sauce. There were two forks on the side, and Stella picked one up and carefully worked it into the top of the slice, which had the additional layer of ganache, picking up a bite-sized piece of cake on the tines. She held it out towards Scully, one hand cupped beneath it in case the piece was to fall.

Scully caught herself holding her breath as she leaned forward to take the bite of cake that Stella had offered. She closed her eyes briefly as the fork slid back out of her mouth, leaving the luscious bloom of bittersweet chocolate in her mouth. "That's… amazing," she said after a moment, opening her eyes as she savoured the lingering flavour left on her tongue.

Stella was watching her, waiting for Scully to finish. "Good?" she asked.

"Why don't you see for yourself?" Scully picked up the other fork and speared a piece of the cake, making sure to get a cross-section that included the ganache, the cake, and the icing. She held it out to Stella in the same way she had offered it to her, and this time it was her turn to watch as Stella's lips closed over the cake as she pulled it off Scully's fork.

"Mmmm… that is amazing." She smiled at Scully and Scully felt a warmth bloom inside of her.

They went back and forth, sharing bites of cake as they drank their tea, and the piece was gone in almost no time at all.

"The last bite is yours," Stella said, extending her fork across the table and Scully took the final morsel into her mouth. "You deserve it."

* * *

 _Merry Christmas and happy holidays, everyone! Josie Lange, thank you for the being the best beta a girl could ask for. Couldn't do it without you!_


	8. Chapter 8

"Wow. This is incredible. I've never seen anything like it." Scully was staring around the club in awe once they'd made it inside past the bouncers. "Have you been here before?"

"No," Stella replied. "A friend recommended it to me ages ago if I was ever back in Edinburgh."

They were inside a large stone chamber with an arched roof, one of a series of similar chambers that had been built beneath the arches of the South Bridge in the late 1700s. But, rather than housing merchant goods, illegal whiskey distilleries, or stolen corpses waiting to be sold to the Edinburgh Medical College, this one was now a trendy night time locale, with live music and a decent crowd of people dancing or milling about around the long bar area that took up most of one side. Through another archway, there was a similar chamber filled with booths and tables.

"Shall we get a drink?" Stella motioned towards the bar. "Or would you rather work up a thirst first?"

"Drinks first," Scully said decisively. She'd only had two glasses of wine with dinner and she didn't feel nearly loose enough to dance yet.

Stella took her hand as they wove their way through the crowd and didn't release it, even when they'd reached the edge of the bar. "What would you like?" she asked Scully. "Your usual gin and tonic?"

It made Scully feel muddled and happy that Stella already knew her well enough to know this about her. She didn't want the usual tonight though. Tonight was about not being trapped by past choices, not being content with the patterns she had used to close herself off. "I think I'll have a scotch," she said without allowing herself to overanalyze her decision. "When in Scotland, right?"

Stella nodded in perfect understanding and gestured to the bartender.

A few minutes later, they had found a free booth in the other chamber where they were further from the band and it was easier to speak without needing to yell. She was a little surprised when Stella slid in next to her rather than across from her, but it would be easier for them to hear each other this way and the warm press of Stella's leg against her own was pleasant. It felt natural to be close. Scully took a small sip of her whiskey, enjoying the burn that licked down her throat and warmed her stomach pleasantly.

"So," Stella said, relaxing against the back of the booth, "tell me something I don't already know about you."

Scully laughed. "Like what?"

"Anything. But nothing too mundane. Pick something obscure."

"Hmmm… Okay." Scully tried to think of something interesting, but immediately rejected the initial things that came to mind. The first — sneaking out of the house when she was thirteen to smoke her mother's cigarettes — now also carried the added alcohol-tinged memories of Ed Jerse in Philadelphia, and she didn't need any more reminders or echoes of that particular evening.

Her second thought was just… lame. Stella would have no interest in the fact that Bill had convinced her to let him shave off her eyebrows when she was five, resulting in a kindergarten school picture that had stayed on the fridge until she had finally torn it to shreds with embarrassment when she was entering those sensitive pre-teen years.

Then, there were all the weird things she'd seen and been through as part of the X-Files, but most of those stories were too bizarre to even be believed, and they weren't really about her. She didn't want to put a damper on the mood of the evening by talking about all the other fun highlights of her life either, and there were so many to choose from! Would Stella like to hear about the numerous times she'd been abducted, her nearly dying from cancer, or her infertility?

"I honestly don't know what to say," Scully said after what was probably a long and awkward pause while she toyed with the rim of her glass.

Stella took a sip of scotch and tilted her head. "I'll go first then, shall I? I dislike any combination of fruit and chocolate together. Now, you. One drink, one random fact."

Scully took a sip, still trying to come up with something that she thought Stella might want to know.

"Stop thinking. There is no wrong answer. I'm not going to think less of you."

"I wrecked my parents' car right after I got my driver's license by backing into a mailbox."

"Good." Stella's posture was loose but there was a glint of determination in her eyes that reminded Scully of Mulder when he was cutting his teeth on a new case. Stella took a drink of scotch and set her glass down on the table. "There was a boy who used to tease me when I was in primary school, so I dared him to eat an earthworm in front of a group of kids on our street. When he chickened out, I ate five of them, one after the other, until he ran home crying to his mum."

"During one of the first necropsies I performed on a decomposing body, I accidentally nicked the bowel with my scalpel and it exploded all over me and the supervising pathologist."

"I almost exclusively read non-fiction."

"I like cheesy romantic movies." It was getting easier now, Scully just throwing out the first thing that came into her head when it was her turn.

"I shaved my head when I was sixteen just to make my mother angry."

"I'm apparently immortal."

Stella laughed, her face softening. "Dare I ask?"

Scully grinned back. "Probably best that you don't. I've seen enough strange things to last me a lifetime."

They continued to trade facts back and forth until, finally, Stella swallowed the last of the amber liquid in her glass and set it down, neatly wiping the edge of her lips with one finger before looking at Scully inquisitively. "Dance with me?"

Scully shrugged, unsure. "I don't know. I might need a couple more drinks first. Dancing always makes me feel stupid. Awkward and uncoordinated." She snorted, looking down into her empty glass. "Like I'm fifteen all over again."

Stella reached over and took the glass from her hands and Scully looked up to meet her eyes. "Feel. Don't think. Force yourself to release the tension in your body." Stella ran a fingertip over the curve of Scully's bare shoulder, tracing downward along her arm, and Scully's heart surged from a gentle trot to a full-blown gallop. "None of the people here know who you are. They don't care. You're just another body."

Her fingers brushed over the underside of Scully's wrist before taking her hand in her own. "I know what it's like to get stuck in your own head. Sometimes, it's okay to not think." Stella gave Scully a moment of pause before she gently pulled on her hand and slid out of the booth and stood up. She gestured with her head towards the other chamber and the dance floor. "Yes or no?" she asked softly. "Otherwise, I'll get us another round."

Scully licked her lips. "Yes," she said.

* * *

"You know why people dance, don't you?" Stella's breath was hot in her ear as she had to lean close in order to be heard over the thump of the music pulsing around them.

Scully smiled wildly — the pumped up atmosphere of the club was infectious — and moved her mouth to Stella's ear to respond. Feeling bold, she made sure she was close enough that the hint of her lips would brush the shell of her ear in a way that could be taken as accidental… or not. "I'm sure there are many reasons. It's almost entirely exclusive to humans, as a species, and we seem to pick it up spontaneously as young children, regardless of cultural background. I suppose it's a way of expressing one's self without words, of establishing a social connection. And, particularly in the case of the adolescent members of human society," Scully pulled back enough so that Stella could see her raised eyebrow of amusement, "because it can be a socially acceptable simulation of sexual intercourse."

Stella laughed, twining her arms around Scully's neck. "Exactly," she said into Scully's ear, and there was no mistaking the quick touch of her tongue to her earlobe. "Dance with me?" Stella asked, and there was a subtle scrape of teeth. A shiver slid through Scully's body like melted chocolate.

Scully pressed in close, determined not to second guess herself and to just feel, removing the last few inches of space between them. "I think I already am."

Stella's cheek was against her own, damp with perspiration and unbelievably soft. "Close your eyes," she murmured.

Scully let her eyes fall shut. She could feel the low throb of the bass vibrating up through the soles of her feet like a sluggish pulse of blood from the expansion and contraction of the sound waves. She could feel the firm grasp of Stella's hands, now at her hips, both of them swaying to the same tempo; where Stella's body went, Scully's followed in perfect unison. She could smell sweat and cologne and the sweet jasmine of Stella's perfume. She let her head loll back, still keeping her eyes closed, letting out a gasp at the unexpected sensation of Stella leaning in to press a kiss to her suprasternal notch.

She opened her eyes to see Stella watching her, waiting for her reaction. They had stopped moving, two figures standing still amidst a riot of gyrating bodies.

Scully took in the dark shadowed blue of her eyes, the gentle part of her lips, and kissed her, her hands threading through the silken strands of Stella's hair. Her lips were much softer than she would have imagined. The first movement of her mouth was tentative, the second and third more sure, more exploratory as she swiped her tongue across the curve of Stella's top lip, wanting to taste. Not releasing her mouth, Scully drifted her hands down from Stella's neck to her hips. "Dance with me," Scully murmured against the press of Stella's mouth, pulling her hips back into their previous rhythm.

"With pleasure," Stella whispered back.

* * *

 _I hope all of you are having an amazing holiday season and, as always, a mega huge thank you to my beta, Josie Lange!_


	9. Chapter 9

By the time they left the club Scully was flushed, partly due the heat of the dance floor, but more from the passion of the handful of kisses she had shared with Stella. Although they hadn't talked about what might happen next, Scully felt like a bottle of carbonated water that had been shaken up, nervous and excited and unsure, as they rode in silence on the way back to the hotel, having decided to take a cab rather than walk.

Stella took her hand as they entered the lobby, and Scully hoped that Stella wouldn't find it too cold and clammy. Somehow, they managed to make it up the stairs, stopping at the door to Scully's room. This was it, the moment of truth.

Scully glanced at Stella, wondering how she could still seem so calm, and then swiped the card to unlock the door. "Do you want to come in?" She hadn't planned what she was going to say, hadn't thought any further ahead than what was right in front of her, but it seemed like the right thing to say. She didn't want this evening to end, not yet; the thought of Stella kissing her again had her shivering with a mixture of nerves and anticipation.

"If that's what you want."

Scully nodded and they entered the room together. Scully tossed her purse down on the desk before sitting down on the edge of the bed and gratefully slipping off each of her shoes in turn with a satisfied groan. "I have such a love-hate relationship with high heels. At least I didn't have to run in them today."

Stella had seated herself in the wooden chair with embroidered cushions to the left of the door and was removing her own shoes as well.

"Listen," Scully felt the nervous urge to continue talking, to get things out in the open, even though it felt horribly awkward. "I don't know what you were… um, what your expectations are for…"

Stella looked up at her as she tucked her shoes beneath the chair and then straightened up. "I don't have any. What happens tonight is entirely up to you."

Scully wished she didn't sound as flustered as she felt. "I don't know. Kissing you was… amazing…" Ugh. She could feel the scorching heat of her blush spreading across her cheeks like the flash of dry tinder going up in flames. "The thing is, I don't know how to feel about this."

Scully stood up, unable to sit still, and she paced over to the window to look out over the picturesque street below. "This conference, this whole trip, was part of me trying to sort out the emotional standstill I feel like my life has become, and I don't want to drag you into this mess with me because I'm confused," she said quietly before turning back to face Stella. "I don't want it to feel like I'm using you as a stand in for something I want but can't have. That isn't fair to either of us."

"But you are using me. And I'm using you. Sometimes we need something that we can only get from another human being and it's okay to want that." Stella stood up and stepped closer, keeping her eyes locked on Scully's face. "You aren't promising me something you aren't prepared to give, and I have no illusions about the temporary nature of our relationship. It's okay to have this."

She was so close now, and Scully could feel the agitated fluttering of her heart inside her chest. Stella slid a hand around behind Scully's neck, sliding her fingers through the base of her hair. "It's okay to want something just because you want it." She kissed her softly and Scully's hands moved up to frame Stella's face, holding her there as she returned the kiss with a deepening passion. "It's okay to let go," Stella murmured between gasps for breath. "It's okay to allow yourself to simply feel, to experience this moment in time for what it is and nothing more."

Abruptly, Stella's mouth left hers as she stepped back, her hands loosely resting on Scully's upper arms, holding her in place. They were both panting, pupils wide with arousal.

"Why did you… did I do something wrong?" Scully's brow furrowed in confusion.

"No. Nothing. But I want you to make the decision, before this goes any further, if this goes any further." Stella gave her a tender look and the corner of her mouth quirked upward. "I like you, Dana. I'm attracted to you. I have no qualms about what's happening between us. If this is something you're going to regret in the morning, I'd much prefer that you walk away right now." Stella paused for a moment, her eyes drifting over Scully's face, lingering on her lips, but coming back up to her eyes once more. "You're a friend, and I don't have many of those. I won't be offended if you decide this isn't something you want to take any further."

Scully took a step back and Stella released her, letting her arms fall to her sides, needing the physical disconnect so that the rational part of her mind had a fighting chance to exert itself. Did she want this? Yes. She licked her lips, remembering the feel of Stella's mouth against them, the sweeping languor of her tongue. She couldn't help the way her gaze shifted down from Stella's eyes to her lips. It had been so long since she'd been in a situation of unadulterated, reciprocated desire; to want and be wanted in return. Stella was a safe harbour — this could never be more than it was, a temporary moment in time for just the two of them. There was no partnership, no life's work, to damage if this didn't work out, if it was the wrong decision.

But, what about Mulder? Was this a facet of her own self-destructive behaviours? Would this feel like a betrayal of something they didn't even have together, might _never_ have together? Scully was tired of it. Tired of doubting herself. Tired of hiding behind walls of her own making to keep people from getting too close. It didn't work anyway. Mulder had worn them down with time, like water eroding away the cliffside until he had seeped through her defenses — nothing more than a trickle at first, and now a torrent of water that terrified her with its wildness and ferocity. And then there was Stella, slipping through the cracks like a mouse, squeezing through spaces that Scully had never even imagined would even be wide enough for her to fit.

She loved Mulder. She thought that, somehow, she always would. It was far too late to try and untangle herself from him now. But, that didn't mean that she needed to lose herself in the process. She was Scully — his Scully — but she was Dana, too.

Stella was regarding her calmly, and Scully was sure she could sense the number of thoughts that were wending their way through her mind. She appreciated that she had given her a chance to think, to sort things out as logically as she could, without trying to influence her.

So, what did she want?

She didn't want this moment to pass by, unexperienced, like so many others in her life. She'd always been so focussed on the path ahead of her — keeping her GPA as high as possible as an undergrad, med school, choosing a challenging specialization, excelling ahead of her classmates at Quantico, proving herself to her superiors, to Mulder. How many times had she put herself second?

It made her think of a psychology experiment that she'd read about years ago where researchers had offered a young child a marshmallow but told them that, if they could wait for a little bit without eating it, then they could have two marshmallows instead of just the one. The researcher would place the single marshmallow on a plate and leave the room for a few minutes, leaving the child alone with the temptation. Could they resist the lure of that single marshmallow when no one was watching them? Was the promise of having more worth the temporary discomfort of having to wait? Of course, this had all been extrapolated out into a lengthy paper on delayed gratification and willpower.

What had been left unsaid was that the whole marshmallow, delayed gratification idea was fine in theory but, in real life parallels of that same experiment, most of the time there weren't two marshmallows waiting at the end of it all. There wasn't even one. That first one that had been offered up was already long gone. It only counted as delayed gratification if there was some actual gratification to be had, and all that was left most of the time, if you were lucky, was the plate.

She was tired of missed chances at happiness.

She was taking the goddamn marshmallow this time.

Scully stepped forward, taking Stella's face between her hands. "I want this. I want you." She kissed her deeply, with no uncertainty or hesitation, gentleness overcome by the latent desire that was surging through her, singing in her veins as Stella pulled her close.

"I want you, too." Stella's fingers were in her hair, tilting her head to the side so she could slant her mouth more perfectly over top of Scully's, her tongue gliding into her mouth as they both groaned. Being of a similar height, there was no strain of needing to have her head back or standing on the balls of her feet in order to reach. She liked their combined softness and she liked that she didn't feel tiny or diminished compared to the woman in her arms. There wasn't the balance of opposites she was used to — hard and soft, large and small, delicate and strong — but rather a meeting of equals that felt just as right together.

Scully explored with her hands as they kissed, languid and slow like the deep currents in the dark ocean depths. She traced down her shoulders, following the slender path of her arms to the delicate bird bones of her wrist and then back again. This time, she continued beyond the delicate roundness of her shoulders down her back to trace the perfect sweep of her scapula and then further down again to her waist as Scully pressed herself even closer.

Stella began to make her way slowly, kiss by kiss, along her jaw and down the pale column of her neck. "I want to take you out of this dress," she whispered once she'd reached Scully's clavicle. "I want to look at you. See how beautiful you are."

Their eyes met as Stella lifted her head and Scully couldn't help murmuring, " _You're_ beautiful. You look so beautiful like this." Stella's blonde hair was tousled from Scully's fingers, and her lips were plump and swollen from the kisses they'd already shared. She couldn't resist reaching out to touch them, and Stella kissed her finger tip as she did just that.

"You should see yourself," Stella answered. "You're magnificent." Her eyes were dark as she gently tugged Scully to turn around. Once Scully's back was to her, Stella stepped in behind her and put her hands around her waist. "Let's go look." She nodded her head in the direction of the mirror and, together, the two of them moved towards it with Stella steering Scully's movements. When they were close enough, they stopped.

Scully stared at their reflection, nearly overcome by the combination of desire and need. They were beautiful together, her red hair and Stella's blonde, their flushed cheeks. Stella's lips were parted slightly and they both watched as her hands edged from Scully's waist to move upward at a painfully slow pace. Scully pinched her bottom lip between her teeth, knowing where she was headed and already imaging how her hands were going to feel. She could feel the strain in Stella's arms as she held herself to the maddening pace she'd chosen.

"Oh, please…" The words fell from Scully's lips unbidden as she struggled to keep her eyes open. Stella's hands didn't waver from their snail-like ascent, but her breathing had quickened, and a tight gasp escaped from her mouth.

It was torture. The glacier of each finger scraped away the landscape of each hilled rib and then the valleyed furrows of flesh that lay between them. She was trembling, maybe they both were, it was becoming harder to tell. At the first touch to the underside of her breasts, Scully whimpered, and Stella let out a long slow exhalation of breath.

"Yes?" Stella asked.

"Yes…" Scully was amazed she could even form the word.

The light pressure of Stella's caresses was sliding the material of her dress back and forth over her already sensitive skin, and the added friction was both arousing and maddening. She wasn't wearing a bra, despite having bought one — her breasts weren't large enough for it to be much of an issue and there was an allure in going bra-less, a hint of hidden rebellion that only she knew about.

Instinctively, she arched her back, trying to bring Stella's hands up to where she was aching to be touched. Her nipples were hard, and the brush of fabric against them was nowhere near enough.

Finally — finally! — Stella's fingers reached them, but not with the same cautious exploratory touch that had been climbing the mountainous ascent of her torso. No, as soon as her fingers came into contact with the peaks of Scully's nipples, she gripped them firmly, rolling the taut nubs between the pads of her fingers.

Scully's eyes flew shut and moan erupted from her throat as pleasure arced through her, sending a bolt of pure want to her already throbbing core. Her knees buckled. She would have sunk to the floor had it not been for Stella holding her up.

Still rhythmically kneading her breasts and tugging her nipples, Stella lowered her head to the exposed slant of Scully's neck and lightly suckled, pulling the skin tight with the suction of her mouth. With each inhalation of breath, she could smell the floral notes of Stella's perfume, light and feminine.

"More." It wasn't enough. She wanted to feel her everywhere and Stella seemed to know this intuitively as the suction on her neck increased followed by the pinch of teeth, slight at first, and then harder. She could feel herself getting wetter, getting more aroused, with each bite, with the way that Stella's control seemed to be slipping, too.

She nearly cried when suddenly everything ceased, Stella's mouth and questing fingers stilling abruptly. Scully was shivering uncontrollably as Stella hooked a finger in the curved line of fabric above Scully's breasts and tugged on it lightly. "Time for this to come off, I think." Her voice was husky, rasped with desire.

All Scully could do was nod at their reflections in the mirror. The pale skin of her neck was flushed a dusky rose where Stella's mouth had been and her eyes looked glazed and wild, a doe startled into flight by a hunter. Stella's eyes were hungry, and Scully was ready to be devoured.

With one finger, Stella traced over the arch of one of the thin shoulder straps and then slid it slowly over the rounded acromial of her shoulder. Seemingly unhurried, except for the way her breathing quickened and a slight tremble in the motion, she did the same to the other side. Starting back in the middle between Scully's breasts, Stella's fingers painted a trail along the skin above the neckline of her dress, circling lazily around from the front to the back until she reached the tiny zipper. She pulled it down and the sides of the dress opened like a flower, delicate petals folding back to reveal Scully's naked upper body beneath it, and there was an audible gasp from both of them. They both stared, unable to look away.

The sheen of black fabric and lace clung around her hips and Scully's hands came up to pull it down, but Stella's hands came around to press on hers gently, halting their movement. "Let me."

Scully nodded, letting her hands fall to her sides as Stella carefully eased the dress down over the curve of Scully's hips until it fell loose around her legs and she was able to step out of it. Stella let out a long breath, meeting Scully's eyes in the mirror as her hands curled around Scully's waist, pulling her back against her. The only thing hiding her full nakedness was the wisp of midnight blue satin between her legs and she didn't think she'd ever been this turned on in her life.

Stella worked the edges of her underwear down over her hips before crouching down, pressing hot wet kisses in the center of her tattoo as she slid them further down her legs until Scully was able to kick them off. On her way back up to standing, she pressed kisses and bites along the beaded rosary of Scully's spine.

"I want to kiss you," Scully murmured, leaning her head back against Stella's shoulder, her breath coming in short pants. "Please."

"Then kiss me," Stella whispered back, and Scully turned in her arms to capture her mouth in a kiss that was a frenzied dance of lips and teeth and tongues. Her hands were in Stella's hair, wanting her close, needing her close. The scratch of the material of Stella's dress was maddening against the hypersensitivity of her skin, both arousing and distracting in its own way, but she wanted the heat and softness of Stella's body pressed against her own. She reluctantly slid one of her hands out of Stella's hair and down her back, searching for the zipper on the back of her dress, but she was clumsy with lust and the tiny metal oval seemed to be eluding her.

"Take this off," Scully managed to get out between breaths. "I want to feel you."

Stella bit down on the plumpness of her lower lip, sending her reeling once more. "In a minute. I'm not done with you yet." She sucked Scully's lip into her mouth, massaging the area she'd just nipped with flat swipes of her tongue. "Bed." She slowly propelled them both a few steps in the right direction, never letting up on her assault of Scully's mouth. Her hands had found their way down to her ass, clutching her tightly in order to keep their hips pressed together. "Now." A few more steps and Scully felt the bed against the back of her legs as she bumped into it. "Lie down."

Scully gave one last sweep of Stella's mouth with her tongue before returning the bite on Stella's bottom lip. Stella groaned, and Scully felt the heady combination of both the desire to receive pleasure and to cause it in return rush through her body like an electrical current, sparking from nerve ending to nerve ending, synapses firing like shooting stars. She was wanted, desired, and she was making Stella feel the same. She was going to make Stella feel as good as she was feeling and it made her feel powerful.

She sat down on the mattress and tucked her feet underneath her so that she was kneeling. She trailed her fingers down over Stella's shoulders, down her arms, to grasp her hands, and pulled the other woman onto the bed with her as she edged back towards the pillows. "Where do you want me?" Scully was nearly in the middle of the king-sized bed now, the covers rumpled from her slide across it.

"Right here is good." She gently pushed Scully's shoulders, guiding her down as Scully unfolded her legs so she could stretch out fully. Stella eased herself to the side, out of her way, so that Scully had room to position herself however she felt most comfortable. Once she had settled into place, Stella clasped one of her hands in hers and guided it up next to Scully's head, giving it a light but deliberate squeeze as she let go to indicate that she wanted her to keep her hand there. She repeated the same action on the other side, her eyes warm and kind as she studied Scully's face. "This okay?"

"Yeah." She wanted more of Stella's hands, more of her mouth, everywhere, and it was an effort to keep her hips from arching off the bed, trying in vain to seek the contact her body was craving. But Stella wasn't touching her anywhere, not yet, consuming her with her eyes, and somehow that was nearly as erotic as a physical touch.

Stella's hair was a golden halo in the glow of the bedside lamp, and she was so stunningly beautiful in that moment that it made Scully nearly ache with the sight of it.

"Tell me what you want, Dana." Stella leaned down and brushed her lips against her mouth, and this time Scully couldn't stop the upward pulse of her hips although she kept her hands in place where Stella had put them. She wound her fingers into her own hair, needing to ground herself. "Do you want me to touch you?"

"Yes." The word was a whimpered plea as one finger touched the dip between her collar bones and lingered there, tracing a tiny circle that went around and around before gliding down her sternum. Another tiny circle there lasting as long as it took Scully to expel one ragged breath and draw in another, and then Stella's finger was moving again, taking a low circuitous path around the mound of her left breast. Once she was back in the center, she did the same to her right breast, tracing a figure eight over the heat of Scully's skin. Her nipples were so hard that they hurt, her areolas puckered.

Stella stopped, and the sensation of touch disappeared. Scully's fingers pulled her hair as her head twisted to the side involuntarily, making her scalp prickle with a sweet almost pain. This was torture and she never wanted it to stop. Her eyes were closed and she felt incapable of doing anything other than lying there, wet and wanton, waiting for Stella's next move.

There was a warm breath of air over her right nipple and she shuddered. "Do you want me to use my mouth?"

"Please…" The word was little more than a whispered exhale, but Stella must have heard because a moment later, her mouth was there, suckling and pulling, and Scully's back bowed upward at the sudden shock of pleasure. "Oh… Jesus…" Stella's hand was at her other breast, kneading and tugging in counterpoint to her mouth, and Scully wondered if it was possible to come from this alone. Stella was making low hums of pleasure as she licked and suckled, and Scully felt like she was about to burst out her skin, breaking open like a piece of over ripened fruit. "So good," she found herself murmuring over and over again. "God, that feels so good."

Scully couldn't say how much time had passed before Stella's mouth began to move in a slow slide down the concave slope between the bottom of her rib cage to the smooth plain of her abdomen. There was a slight pause and a gentle kiss on her navel as Stella continued in a straight path down to where Scully was throbbing for contact. She lingered at the inside curve of Scully's hip bone, pressing delicate kisses to the sensitive skin there, making her shake with the anticipation of where she might go next.

When she reached her mons, she stopped again, hovering above the neat line where her pubic hair began. "Yes?" she asked.

Scully opened her eyes and looked down to see Stella's eyes searching her own. Stella's chest was heaving with each intake of breath and her arms holding her in position above Scully were quaking. She was gorgeous. There wasn't anything that she wanted more than this right now.

"Yes." Scully let her head relax back and closed her eyes again, holding the image of Stella in the back of her mind, and opened her legs a little wider. "Yes," she murmured again, wanting Stella to know she was sure, that she wanted this.

Scully felt the shift in the mattress as Stella lowered herself down and then the flat swipe of her tongue along her labia had her writhing and arching off the bed towards the heat of Stella's mouth. Everything about Stella was soft, and the combination of the slickness of her own arousal and the silken slide of Stella's skin against her own was like an extension of herself.

She was so close already, could feel her orgasm building. "More." The word came out as a moan. She needed more pressure, more stimulation, and Stella was there. Scully wasn't even sure what she was doing — a pattern of suckling and nudging her clitoris with her tongue and lips alternating with long hard licks that began at her opening and ended with a hard press once she'd returned to the top. Her fingers were gripping Scully's inner thighs, keeping her spread wide and open to her onslaught.

Scully's fingers were wrapped in her own hair, pulling the strands taught with the effort of keeping them where Stella had placed them. She was babbling, each word torn from her chest on a gasp of air. "Don't stop, Oh, God… please don't stop." Her hips were canted up, seeking release, as she ground herself against the firm press of Stella's tongue. She could feel the stuttering initial shocks of her impending release. So close, she was so close, and then it hit her all at once like the sudden deluge of a summer thunderstorm and she was going over the edge and she never wanted it to end. She was writhing, falling apart, and it was too much and not enough all at the same time. She was panting as she came back to herself, Stella still pressing her mouth firmly against her until all the aftershocks had passed.

Scully tossed her head back as her body relaxed, every ounce of tension seeping out of her. Stella lifted her head slowly, coming to rest against Scully's inner thigh as they lay there quietly and Scully caught her breath. Without opening her eyes, Scully moved her arm down from behind her head to lightly stroke Stella's hair.

"Thank you,'" Scully murmured. "That was… like nothing I've ever experienced before."

"Because it was with a woman?"

Scully opened her eyes, and was overcome by the beauty of the woman nestled between her legs. "No." She slid her fingers along the perfect contour of Stella's cheekbone. "Because it was with you. Because…" She blushed, not that her cheeks could get much pinker at the moment, she was quite sure. "Because you made me feel beautiful."

She traced the outline of Stella's lips with the tip of her finger, and Stella opened her mouth to kiss her fingertip.

"I want to do that for you," Scully whispered, holding Stella's eyes with her own. "I want to make you feel like that, too."

Stella lifted her head and maneuvered herself upward until Scully's face was nearly even with her own, and Scully captured her mouth with a fervour. She tried to convey, with lips and tongue and teeth, the raw emotional pull of vulnerability and desire that she was feeling. Scully rolled them so that she was on top, her naked hips straddling Stella's clothed ones as she nuzzled her face into the delicate perfume of her neck. "I want to undress you." Scully bit down on the skin just below Stella's ear and then licked it with the flat of her tongue. "I want to look at you the way you looked at me."

Stella gave her a look of challenge, her eyes deliciously dark. "What's stopping you?" Even though she was the one on top, Scully had no doubt as to who was really in control. Stella was the cat allowing the mouse to have her fun. And Scully intended to make the most of it.

She leaned down and kissed Stella gently, almost chastely, before grasping her lower lip between her teeth and carefully drawing it upward and biting down with increasing pressure until she heard Stella's involuntary gasp of pleasure. "Roll over," Scully murmured, lifting her hips up to give Stella room to move.

Stella gave a brief nod and then did as Scully asked.

Scully settled herself back down and took a moment to admire the view. She swept Stella's long hair off to the side and leaned forward to place a tender kiss on the nub of each vertebrae, working her way down her neck and spine until she reached the top of her dress. "Good?"

"Yes." Stella's already low voice had dropped even lower, and Scully was beginning to feel desire stirring inside her once more.

Scully grabbed the end of the zipper and tugged it all the way down, parting the fabric beneath her hands. Stella was wearing a pastel pink strapless bra beneath it, and Scully unhooked the fastenings on it, exposing the reminder of Stella's bare back. With a moan of pleasure, she picked up again where she had left off, kissing the rest of the way down her spine. Stella was grinding her hips against the bed in a rocking sway that soon had Scully pressing down against her, unable to keep her body from following the same instinctive primal rhythm.

When she'd kissed all she could reach, Scully slid off of her, edging down so she could stand at the end of the bed. Stella looked so delicate, sprawled across the crisp ivory of the blankets. "Lift up your hips." Scully tugged the dress the rest of the way off, taking the matching pink panties along with it, leaving the fabric in a pile on the floor. "Now turn over."

Stella rolled over slowly, letting Scully drink her fill. Her breasts were slightly smaller than Scully's, her body leaner with more sharply defined angles. She was fully waxed, her mound smooth and bare. As she stretched, watching Scully watching her, she reminded Scully of a wild cat, sleek and sinewed, giving the illusion of calm grace even while it hunted.

She crawled up Stella's body, forcing herself to go slow, to draw it out as much as she could, until she was sitting, perched on the delicate wings of her hip bones once more. There was no dress in the way this time, though, and Scully could feel her own wetness as she settled against her, skin to skin. She could smell their arousal, both hers and Stella's, musky and primal.

"You're incredible," Scully said in a low voice as she leaned down to kiss her, "in more ways than I could have ever imagined."

As they kissed, Stella reached for Scully's hand and guided it up, placing it firmly against her breast with a quick squeeze. Scully understood, moving her other hand to cover Stella's other breast. Stella moaned against her mouth, their teeth clacking together momentarily with the passion of it, as Scully gripped the bottoms of her breasts with her fingers and slid her thumbs firmly over the tops, ending with a circular rub of her thumbs across Stella's nipples. She repeated the motion, catching and rolling her nipples between her thumb and forefinger with each pass. Stella's hips were moving in a slow roll, echoing her movements, until Scully slid down to take one of the hardened nubs into her mouth.

The sounds Stella was making were making her even wetter, and Scully couldn't get enough of them. The hitched breath as she flicked it with her tongue, the long groan as she suckled, drawing both the nipple and areola into her mouth, the gasp of, "Oh, fuck," when she bit down. She moved to the other breast, lavishing it with the same attention as the first, before moving downward, trying to keep herself from going too fast, wanting to tease, wanting to draw out Stella's pleasure until she snapped.

So, she allowed herself to explore, savouring each new area she encountered. She licked along the underside of each breast, tasting the salt, breathing in the warm sweet smell of her skin. She nibbled down the notched ridges of her ribs, trying not to tickle, trying to ignore the insistent tugs of Stella's hands in her hair, urging her lower. Stella wasn't overly vocal or loud, but her soft sighs and drawn out hums of pleasure were all the encouragement that Scully needed to know that she was doing this right.

Her tongue dipped into the valley of her navel, circling the rim, as Scully slid further down Stella's legs, stretching herself out so she could balance even though she was partly off the bed at this point. She spent an eternity in the hollow of her left hip bone. Stella had paid extra attention to that spot on Scully when their positions had been reversed, leading Scully to the conclusion that it was likely a place Stella found to be highly erogenous.

Her deduction was correct.

At the first draw of her teeth over the bone of her iliac crest, Stella's hips canted upwards. When she kissed and sucked the skin in the concave curve below, Stella actually moaned, long and low. Without moving from that spot, Scully traced slow circles over the silken skin of her stomach, circling lower and lower until she reached the gentle slope of her mons. It was a smooth as it looked and Scully rested her palm against it with a small amount of pressure as she bit the patch of skin at Stella's hip bone.

She could smell her arousal more strongly now, and she lifted her head, pressing one last kiss to the blotchy lavender patch she'd left behind, so she could see. Her labia were wet, and Scully ghosted down the center of her vulva with the lightest of touches, feeling how slippery she was. A full body shudder racked through Stella's body as her legs opened further.

The inside of her thighs were covered with the crosshatches of old scars, and Scully's finger paused for a moment near her opening. She'd seen this before, self-inflicted wounding or cutting as a means of replacing emotional pain with physical pain. Somehow, she wasn't surprised. She had a strong desire to kiss her there, to run her tongue along every ridged line of skin, but wasn't sure if that was something Stella would want her to notice or pay attention to. Her gut feeling was that Stella would rather pretend that they didn't exist. So, without any further hesitation, she used both hands to part Stella's labia and leaned down, pressing the flat of her tongue against her centre and licking upward until she reached her clitoris.

She'd never done this before, had never even kissed a woman before Stella, but she didn't feel intimidated or lost as to what to do. She simply explored, mimicking the things Stella had done to her and trying to recreate the patterns and pressure that she liked herself. The taste and smell was different compared to men, less bitter. It made her think of the time when Charlie had dared her to lick the end of a nine-volt battery when they were kids… an almost electric coppery sort of tang.

Stella's hands had moved to her own breasts, pulling and tugging on her nipples, and she was panting and tossing her head from side to side on the pillow. In the pale light of the room, her skin glowed almost like it had been lit up from within. With her fingers, Scully began to tease at her opening before sliding one finger inside. Stella sighed, her hips pushing up against the firm press of Scully's mouth. Scully placed her other hand, fingers splayed wide, across Stella's lower abdomen, holding her in place as she increased the pressure, alternating between suckling and flicking her tongue in a half-circle around the raised nub of her clitoris. Stella's whole body was beginning to quake as Scully added a second finger, sliding them in and out in a counterpoint to her mouth.

She came with an inarticulate cry, her vaginal walls clenching around Scully's fingers. Scully held perfectly still, not easing up until she felt Stella's body relax completely.

Although she didn't really want to move, she was lying diagonally across the bottom of the bed with her feet hanging off, so she edged herself up and Stella pulled her towards her, wrapping her arms around her. Face to face once more, they traded languorous kisses back and forth, their bodies still tingling from the after effects of their lovemaking.

"I don't normally do this, you know." Stella turned her head to look at her, her chest still heaving with exertion. They were both sprawled out across the bed, still too hot to even contemplate wanting blankets over top of them.

Scully lazily turned her head to face her. "What?"

"Get emotionally involved with the people I fuck."

Scully laughed, boneless and relaxed, feeling like she could melt into the bed if her body made the decision that being corporeal was overrated. "Well, I don't normally fuck the people I'm emotionally involved with. I'm a master at it, if you must know."

"It may surprise you to know that I'd already drawn that conclusion some time ago," Stella said with a droll lilt in her voice, and Scully couldn't help the giggle that escaped. Maybe she wasn't about to melt, maybe she was about to float like a balloon instead. Solid to liquid. Solid to gas. Melting… sublimation… did it really matter?

She pressed a kiss to Stella's shoulder and they lay there, warm and comfortable, until they both fell asleep.

* * *

 _Happy New Year, everyone! Thanks, Josie Lange, for being the best beta in the whole world (and then some)!_


	10. Chapter 10

When Scully woke the following morning, she was alone, although the faint scent of Stella's perfume still lingered on the pillow beside her. She stretched unhurriedly, feeling more relaxed than she had in a long time. She allowed herself the luxury of lying in bed for a few minutes, her eyes still closed, as she remembered the events of the previous evening.

She'd never had a lover like Stella before, someone who had made her feel so… cherished. She balked at using the word 'loved', although that had been the first thought to enter her mind. That wasn't what this was, even if… maybe… the potential was there. In some ways, it felt like none of this was real. That, at any moment now, she was going to wake up in her bed at home where nothing ever changed.

With a sigh, her previous good mood dampened, she rolled over and buried her head deeper into her pillow. What was she doing? She didn't even know anymore… Mulder had spent last night on the road with Diana — her brain was more than happy to conjure up all sorts of scenarios that could have occurred — and she had spent the night with Stella. God, she was such a hypocrite! The thought of Mulder with someone else had her seething, but then she had gone and done the exact thing she was agonizing about him doing.

But, what did it matter anyway? He wasn't hers and she wasn't his, not in that sense. They were colleagues, best friends, partners… but not that.

Tired of lying there with thoughts as itchy and prickly as a rough wool sweater, she climbed out of bed and pulled her fingers through the tangled mess of her hair. A shower was definitely first on the agenda. There was a note on the desk in Stella's neat handwriting:

 _Gone for a run. Meet me for breakfast downstairs at 9? – S_

Scully glanced at the clock. It was only a little after eight, so she had plenty of time, maybe even enough for a brief soak in the tub after she'd washed her hair.

* * *

"Good morning. I trust you slept well?" There was a smile in Stella's eyes as she slid into the chair across from Scully in the small dining area.

"Very well." Scully felt immediately better in Stella's presence, although her bath had helped as well. "How was your run?"

"Wretched. I hate running. I prefer to swim when I'm at home."

"Any ideas of what you'd like to do today?" It was their last full day in Edinburgh. How had the time gone by so quickly? "I wouldn't mind checking out the National Galleries. I like looking at art, even if I'm awful at it personally." Scully broke off a piece of her muffin and ate it, chewing thoughtfully. "I wouldn't mind walking down the Royal Mile, just to do it. I should probably pick up something for my mom while I'm here, too."

She couldn't help stealing glances at Stella as they ate their breakfast, her thoughts unerringly drawn back to the night before again and again, to the sight of Stella's hands twisting in the sheets as Scully had touched her, kissed her, tasted her…

Goddammit. She was blushing again. She ducked her eyes down to stare far too intently into her coffee cup, but Stella brushed her fingers around the curve of her elbow and then smiled at her as she looked up. "I had a really nice time last night."

Scully slowly reached across the table and took Stella's hand in her own, giving it a soft squeeze. "Me, too."

After breakfast, they started at Edinburgh Castle and worked their way down the Royal Mile towards Holyrood Palace, stopping anywhere that looked interesting—Scully particularly liked the Camera Obscura, although most of it was too touristy to have much appeal. Still, she caved and bought stuffed teddy bears in kilts for each of her nephews, a coloured glass paperweight for her mom, and a garish tartan tie that she knew Mulder would love. They lingered over lunch in a pub, sipping light lagers and eating the best fish and chips that Scully had ever had. It was nice to not be rushed, to simply wander wherever their fancies took them.

They spent the afternoon at the National Galleries of Scotland and finished up with tea at the Colonnades at the Signet Library in a small dining area surrounded by elegant columns, stained glass windows, and rows and rows of bookshelves. It felt like something out of a fairy-tale.

After a full day out, they ended up opting for room service at the hotel rather than going out somewhere for dinner. And, with the thoughts that had been bubbling through her all day, like a pot in danger of boiling over, Scully was sure that was just as well, considering that she had Stella pressed against the back of the door, each of them kissing the other hungrily, the moment they'd walked into Stella's room.

* * *

"You have feelings for him. Your partner."

They were lying on the bed side by side, sweaty and sated, Scully's arm cast loosely across Stella's stomach, Stella's leg curved over top of her own.

It wasn't a question.

Scully realized that, in all the time she and Stella had spent together over the past few days, she'd never even told her his name.

"Mulder," she said softly. "His name is Mulder." Before she could even ask, Scully provided an explanation. "We use our last names at work and he hates his first name."

"So, you go by 'Scully' then?"

"Most of the time. Only my mom and my brothers call me Dana any more." She nudged Stella with her leg using a minimal amount of effort. "And you."

"Would you rather I called you Scully?"

Scully languidly turned her head to the side to look into Stella's eyes. "No. I wouldn't."

"Good." Stella leaned in and kissed her tenderly. "Because I prefer Dana. It suits you."

"I feel like Dana here, when I'm with you." She smoothed a few strands of blonde hair away from Stella's face, tucking them behind her ear. "I know I have to go back to being Scully again soon but, for right now, I just want to stay in this moment."

Stella hummed in agreement and they both fell silent until Scully spoke again.

"Can I ask you something?"

"Go ahead."

"Why me?"

Stella propped her head up on her hand as she studied Scully's face in the dim light. "Why did I approach you in the hotel lounge? Why did I ask you to come to Edinburgh with me?"

"Yes."

"Because I wanted to. Why did you agree to come with me?"

Scully rolled onto her back, staring up at the ceiling. "I don't know. I've been feeling so lost lately, like I've been going through the motions for so long that I've lost sight of why I'm doing them. I've worked so hard to get where I am and, now that I'm here, I'm discovering that it's not enough." She shivered, despite the warmth of Stella's body next to her own. She twined her fingers through Stella's before continuing.

"When we met, I felt a connection between us. It was easy for me to talk to you because there was no history, no expectations. With Mulder, everything is complicated, like I can't let my guard down, even for a moment." She swallowed, struggling against the ache of the tears she refused to let fall. "I've been… I've been fighting against how I feel for such a long time, trying to lock it all up inside, and it felt freeing to be able to say yes to you. I'd been starting to feel like I wasn't capable of feeling anything any more, like I was empty inside."

"We all have different ways of dealing with that emptiness," Stella said. "Some more healthy than others." She kissed the back of Scully's hand before releasing it, then stood up and walked over to the armchair near the window. Her silk robe was draped across the arm of it, and Stella picked it up and slipped it on, tying the belt loosely around her waist.

Scully rolled over to watch her. She looked ethereal in the street lights shining in from the window, highlighting her silhouette. She could sense Stella pulling away, and she wanted to understand. "What did this mean, for you?"

"We all need the intimacy of human contact, to be touched. It's in our nature as social creatures. I needed that sense of connection as much as you did." She stood near the window, looking out into the darkness. "But I understand the inherent impermanence of this situation and I can accept it for what it is."

"What do you mean?"

Stella turned away from the window to face her once more, hugging her arms around her chest as she shrugged lightly. "This is only temporary. There's an ocean between us and I have no intention of ever relocating to America. As much, I'd imagine, as you ever wanting to move to London. But, even if that weren't the case, this is still _temporary_ , a fleeting moment in time where we both happen to be. You're in love with Mulder." Scully opened her mouth, as if to interrupt, but then shut it again. "And I don't do permanent. Ever." Stella's voice was heartbreakingly gentle. "Not even for you. I can't be what you want, Dana."

Scully felt her anger prickling. "And how do you know what I want?"

"I don't. Not really. That's for you to figure out for yourself." They studied each other in the near darkness for a long moment before Stella spoke again. "I'd prefer to sleep alone tonight, but you can stay here. You're already settled. I'll use your bed, if that's okay with you."

A wave of hurt rolled through Scully. How could she just leave? "Didn't this mean anything to you?" She was embarrassed by how broken her voice sounded.

"Of course it did!" Hearing Stella raise her voice was a shock of cold water on her senses. She was always so calm, so in control, that it made the modest increase in volume seem extraordinarily loud. "Just because it was short and temporary doesn't cheapen it, doesn't make it any less meaningful. Only you can choose to do that. Lie to yourself, if it makes it easier for you."

"That's not what I want," Scully said, her voice turning to steel. "I'm not so deluded that I ever thought this was more than it was. And I'm not the one who's walking away right now. Sometimes, these fleeting moments in time are all we get, one brief opportunity where our lives happened to intersect." She sat up in the bed, tucking her knees up against her chest and wrapping her arms tightly around them. "If you're worried that I'm looking for more from you, you don't need to be."

Stella's tone was cool, but there was a slight tremor as she asked, "So, what do you want?"

"Come back to bed."

The minutes stretched between them, long and breathless, neither of them moving. Scully waited.

Caressed by street light and shadows, Stella untied her robe, letting the silk fall to the floor, not bothering to place it back on the arm of the chair. She walked back to the bed, back to Scully's waiting arms.

Scully pulled her down, kissing her with a ferocity she didn't know she possessed, warming Stella's cool skin with the heat of her body. They made love, Stella's passionate cries echoing Scully's as they lost themselves in each other. They fell over the edge together, the sudden force of Scully's release sending Stella over as well. Scully kissed her, couldn't stop kissing her, trying to love her, trying to heal her, no longer sure if it was meant for Stella or herself, until she was trembling violently in Stella's embrace with the weight of it all. She didn't feel the tears that gathered at the corners of her eyes, the damp trails they left on the parched plain of her cheeks. Like a dry earthenware vase suddenly filled to bursting with rain water, the clay cracked, and Scully wept.

* * *

 _Thank you, as always, to my wonderful beta, Josie Lange, and thank you to everyone reading! I really appreciate your kind words. :)_


	11. Chapter 11

On the train ride back to London, neither of them spoke much. Scully had reached for Stella's hand almost immediately after they'd sat down, wanting to savour these last few hours together in quiet contemplation. Stella had smiled, and then leaned over to rest her head on Scully's shoulder. In answer, Scully rested her own head on top of Stella's, breathing in the sweet honeyed scent of her shampoo.

It felt like rising from the depths of the sleep, the edges muted in pastel shades of colour, the sounds of conversation around them muffled and distant. She let her mind flow freely from thought to thought, like a dragonfly touching down lightly on the surface of a still pond. The warmth of Stella nestled against her. The beauty of the green fields rushing past, dotted with villages that seemed to be hanging there, suspended in time. The low vibration and rock of the train car.

Scully wasn't ready for it to end, wanted to sink back down into dreams, but that sounded too maudlin to say out loud. So, instead, she lifted her head and waited for Stella to look at her.

When she did, Scully kissed her softly, sweetly, wanting to say, 'thank you', wanting to say 'I'm going to miss you', wanting to say 'I don't want to wake up from this, not yet' but knowing that none of those words could truly convey the complexity of what she felt.

And Stella kissed her back, and Scully hoped she understood.

When they reached King's Cross station they disembarked slowly, walking together, still holding hands, as they made their way to the row of taxis waiting outside. Scully was heading to the airport, Stella to her flat. It had come to an end.

"I don't do good-byes well," Scully said as they turned to face one another.

"Then don't," Stella said quietly. "Take care of yourself, Dana." She touched her cheek, letting her fingers linger there for a moment as their eyes met.

"You, too."

Stella leaned in and pressed a kiss to her lips, and then she stepped back. With the slightest of nods, she turned away, her heels tapping on the pavement as she walked towards the taxi at the front of the line. She got in without looking back, and the cab drove away.

* * *

Scully had never been more grateful for the miracle that was dimenhydrinate.

She didn't want to think, didn't want to feel… she wanted to shut down for a few hours, sucked into the numbness of heavy sleep that Dramamine was kind enough to provide. She'd felt nauseous on the cab ride to the airport thanks to the combination of anxiety over the flight combined with the thought of seeing Mulder again, of being immersed once more in the day-to-day realities that this trip had been a temporary and welcome escape from. And, she missed Stella, missed the calming influence of her presence like the hint of a toothache. If she tried not to think about it, she could still feel the dull throb of it. If she did think about it, pushing her tongue against it, wanting the pleasure and pain of direct contact, it was even worse.

She leaned back in her seat, closing her eyes, as the plane began to accelerate, feeling the bumps and lurches of the wheels settle into her stomach as it hurtled upward off the runway and into the damp grey fog of the London sky. Would she ever come back? She didn't know. She was too tired to care now. With a sigh, she turned her head to the side, and let sleep overtake her.

When she woke up, with a stiff neck, aching shoulders, and a full bladder, she glanced at her watch. They would be landing in DC in another two hours. After a trip to the bathroom, she settled back into her seat, unable to fall back asleep. Was Mulder going to be there to pick her up? He had dropped her off at the airport when she'd left so she wouldn't have to leave her car in long term parking, and she had told him the details of her return flight. Had he remembered? Or, was he so busy with whatever case Diana had managed to dredge up to entice him with that it had completely slipped his mind? She didn't know which option was worse.

On the one hand, she missed him terribly and she wanted nothing more than to see him after this time apart. But, she could still feel the lingering prickle of hurt that he'd been with Diana when she'd phoned. How could she ever possibly hope to compete? Diana had it all. She was physically his type — tall, brunette, leggy — and, even worse, she was mentally his type, too. A believer, willing to go along with his theories and support him rather than challenge him. If that weren't bad enough, they had a history together. A romantic history. His little chickadee, as Frohike had so elegantly put it. It made her want to vomit all over her shoes.

She swallowed and closed her eyes as the plane hit a pocket of turbulent air. How fitting. She hoped he'd forgotten. Like an injured animal, she wanted to slink home and lick her wounds in peace.

The turbulence continued for another half hour, Scully's fingers steadily tightening around the cool metal armrest until they were practically numb. She always felt calmer when she flew with Mulder; he would make her laugh, start a debate… sometimes, she was quite sure he intentionally tried to piss her off or pick a fight, but it was a suitable distraction all the same. She clutched the solidity of the armrest and hoped she wasn't going to need the brown airsickness bag that she'd pulled out of the pocket of the seat in front of her and placed on her lap for easier access, just in case. At least she had the aisle seat if she wanted to try and bolt to the bathroom.

By the time the plane landed she was sure she must be a comical shade of green. With a sigh of relief, she tucked the airsickness bag she thankfully hadn't needed back into the seat pouch for the next unlucky traveller with a similar disposition and put her untouched book into her carry-on bag. Like the other passengers, she stumbled her way to the luggage area with cramped muscles and blinking bleary eyes at the too-bright lights of the terminal. The luggage was slow to unload and hers was one of the last bags to drop down onto the carousel — of course — but at least it gave her stomach some time to stop roiling and churning.

With a tired yawn, she made her way through customs and, at long last, pushed open the metal half gate that led to the unsecured area of the terminal. She couldn't wait to catch a cab and fall into her own bed.

She worked her way through the scattered crowds of people towards the ground transportation doors, when there was a sudden tug on her arm. She turned in confusion to see Mulder and her eyes widened in surprise. He _had_ remembered.

"Scully! Where are you going? You walked right past me." His confusion mirrored her own as he wrinkled his brow. "Are you okay? You look awful." His puzzled frownforwn quickly became concern as he pressed a hand to her forehead. " _Sick_ sick or just airplane sick?"

"Airplane sick." She stepped away from him and shook her head lightly. "It's fine. Just the usual and there was a lot of turbulence towards the end."

"You didn't forget your Dramamine did you?" He batted her hand away from the handle on her luggage and pulled it along behind him as they began to walk.

"No, it just doesn't last the entire length of the flight when it's that long. If I'd taken another one partway through, I would have been too out of it to get off the plane."

"If I'd been with you, I could have carried you off."

She raised an eyebrow at him. "Yeah, no chance of that happening, but thanks anyway. I just want to go home and collapse."

They made their way silently out to the parking lot, and Mulder unlocked the passenger side door for her before stowing her luggage in the trunk and hurrying around to the driver's side. There was a light drizzle falling, with just enough wind to make it unpleasant, and Scully shivered, knowing it would take a few minutes before the vents were blowing warm air. Right now, it was just making her colder.

They didn't speak again until after Mulder had negotiated the non-intuitive route out of the airport and onto the highway. Scully had her hands up to the vents in front of her, seeking the warmth that was still, sadly, non-existent.

"So," Mulder opened with a side glance over at her, "how was your trip?"

The windshield wipers made a slow pass, back and forth, across the glass.

How should she answer that? She didn't really know… It didn't feel like something life-changing but, at the same time, she felt like it was a point in time where she could place a divide between how she had felt before and how she felt now. Not a clean divide, not a precision cut with a scalpel, but a jagged tear, sure to leave a scar when it healed.

Was she a different person than when she had left? No. That sort of thing happened in books and movies, but not real life. Instead, it felt like she had accepted a previously unacknowledged part of herself. Not a new person, the same person, but slightly more self-aware maybe.

"Uh… good. I guess. The conference was interesting."

The windshield wipers went back and forth, back and forth, with a pronounced squeak each time. She realized that Mulder hadn't turned on the radio and she gave him a baffled glance. He always preferred the radio on when he drove.

He was staring out the windshield at the road with a concentration she thought seemed feigned — the weather conditions weren't that bad — and his fingers alternated between tightening and tapping on the steering wheel. Her eyes narrowed.

"How have things been here?" She tried to keep the tightness in her throat out of her voice. "What does Kersh have planned for us this week?" She deliberately didn't ask about the case Diana had involved him in, both hoping it had all blown over by now and not wanting to hear about it in the event that it hadn't.

"Quiet. The… um… case that Diana…" There was a worried glance in her direction that lasted only a fraction of a second, but she was sure he'd caught the way she had tensed. "Um, the clairvoyant abductee case was a total bust. Nothing there at all. I don't know why she'd thought it was so important that we go check this guy out."

Scully bit back a snide comment, tightly clenching her teeth together instead, although it wasn't nearly as satisfying. Not much of a mystery why she conveniently wanted to drag Mulder off on an overnight adventure alone while Scully was out of town.

"Of course, she didn't give me all the case notes until we were driving, so we ended up stuck there for the night anyway." He glanced at her again and Scully turned her attention to the lamp posts whizzing by like blurry globes of light out her window so he wouldn't see her scowl. "I'm sure you would have figured out that the guy was a fraud right away."

They didn't speak the rest of the drive home, but the rain had picked up steadily so that it was downright pouring by the time they reached Scully's apartment. Mulder turned off the car and gave her a quick grin. "You run for the door. I'll grab your suitcase and meet you there. Ready?"

She nodded, softening a little at the warmth in his eyes. It _was_ good to be home.

"Okay… on three — one, two, three!"

Both car doors opened at the same time, Scully making a mad dash up the path to the front doors while fumbling for her keys — she really should have thought to have gotten them out while they were still in the car — as Mulder whipped around to the trunk to get her suitcase. He was nearly beside her by the time she'd located her keys and unlocked the front door of the apartment and they burst through into the dry lobby area, both of them wet and dripping. He laughed as he pushed a lock of wet hair out of his eyes and she couldn't help smiling as well. They were drenched.

She pulled the strap of her carry-on bag further up her shoulder and then took the handle of her suitcase from him. "Thanks for picking me up, Mulder."

He grinned and reached out to catch the drop of rain water that was about to drip from the bottom of her chin. "Any time, Scully. I'll let you go collapse into bed now while I try not to be washed away by the flood waters."

"Drive safely."

She turned and started to walk towards the stairs up to the second floor.

"Hey, Scully?"

She turned back to see Mulder still standing by the door, watching her. "Yeah?"

He gave a long slow blink. "I missed you."

She took him in with her eyes: the way his long lanky form leaned against the door frame; that stubborn lock of hair that was already in his face again; the way he seemed to be taking her in in precisely the same way.

"I missed you, too, Mulder."

The moment hung there between them until he finally shrugged and looked away. "Well… night, Scully. Guess I'll see you on Monday."

"I wouldn't miss it," she answered.

He pushed open the door, letting in one last blustery gust of wind and rain, and she was alone.

* * *

 _Huge, beta squishy hugs for the wonderful Josie Lange for whacking this around with her beta stick!_


	12. Chapter 12

Scully opted for a long shower to chase away the chill while she waited for the heat in her apartment to catch up, regretting having turned the thermostat down before she'd left. Drying her hair as best she could, she bundled herself up in her warmest pajamas and a pair of thick socks before dragging her suitcase into her bedroom so she could unpack and sort through her laundry. At least it was Friday, and she would have the whole weekend to dawdle through the mundane tasks of taking in her dry cleaning and grocery shopping even if her jet lag got the better of her. It was always so much worse adjusting back afterward as opposed to going there.

Once she'd finished, she made one last pass through the apartment to make sure the door was locked and the curtains were drawn before crawling under the covers of her own bed with a grateful sigh. She felt tired and hoped she would sleep all the way through until morning.

* * *

It was still dark when she stretched and opened her eyes, her internal alarm clock helpfully nudging her awake for the day ahead… at two o'clock in the morning here in D.C. but seven A.M. in London. Scully rolled over, snuggling her face into the pillow that still smelled faintly of fabric softener. She'd washed her sheets before she left, knowing she wouldn't want to have yet another load of laundry to do when she got home. She was warm and cozy… and wide awake. Dammit.

She lay there for another twenty minutes with her eyes closed, trying to clear her mind of conscious thoughts, concentrating on the steady in and out of her breath. While very relaxed, she was still no closer to sleep. Might as well get up then.

She padded into the kitchen, flicking on the small lamp in the living room on her way by, and filled up the kettle and set it on to the front element of the stove. While she waited for the water to boil, she grabbed a mug from the cupboard over the sink and a sachet of Earl Grey tea from the box on the counter. She was out of milk, she'd drained the last of her previous carton down the sink before she'd left for the airport, so she didn't even bother looking in the fridge.

With a yawn, she headed back to the bedroom to grab her book from her night stand. It was the same one she'd brought with her to London and yet she was hardly even past the halfway point.

Dropping it on the couch, she went back to the kitchen and stood there, leaning against the counter with her eyes half closed, waiting for the water to boil. She wondered what Stella was doing right now. Probably up and off for an early morning swim. Scully had a hard time picturing her sleeping in, even on a Saturday morning.

Mulder was probably awake, too, probably hadn't even fallen asleep yet. Or maybe, like her, he had dozed for a bit and then woken up, although he would likely have just stayed curled up on the couch, watching whatever old movie happened to be on TV at this time of night. She could call him, but she didn't feel much like talking. And, if he had actually managed to fall asleep and stay asleep, she didn't want to be the one to wake him.

She switched off the element before the kettle began to whistle, not wanting to disturb her neighbours, and poured the nearly boiling water over the tea bag in her mug. She didn't leave it to steep too long, not having any milk to temper the bitterness.

A few minutes later, she was cocooned in a blanket on the couch with her book in her lap and her mug of tea cooling on the coffee table. Flipping through the book to find where she had left off — her bookmark must have fallen out at some point — she began to read… and the opening few sentences took her right back to the train on the way to Edinburgh, Stella picking up the book and handing it to her after she'd dropped it when she'd been nodding off to the rumbling rhythm of the tracks. She had to fight the temptation to smell the edges of the pages, hoping they might carry a faint trace of her perfume and knowing, at the same time, that she was being ridiculous.

Looking around her perfectly ordered living room, it was like she had never left. Everything in its proper place, like it always was. Everything in the exact same position, moved and touched by no one's hands but her own. Perfectly… lonely. Sighing, she set her book down on her outstretched knees and reached for her tea, blowing on it cautiously before taking a sip.

It wasn't all exactly the same as when she'd left. She was different, wasn't she? The Scully who had sat in this same spot a week before had no notion of Stella, no idea that her life was about to be shaken gently like the snow globe that had sat on her dresser all summer when she was eight because she'd refused to let her mother put it away with the other Christmas decorations that year. Her perceptions had been turned over and shaken, and now the glittery sparkles of fake snow were starting to resettle themselves. Did she want them to fall where they had been before, or was she willing to let it settle somewhere new?

She missed Stella. She missed Mulder. Was she really content with ordered and perfect and alone?

As scary as it was to contemplate, she knew in her gut that she should talk to Mulder. She'd been able to talk to Stella about how she felt about him, which was more than she'd ever been able to say to anyone about it before — not to her mom, not even to herself. But, if she ever wanted anything to change, she was going to have to take the terrifying step and tell him.

Sure, he'd already told her how he felt, in theory, anyway, but it had been easier to believe that it was simply due to the amount of painkillers that had been pumped into his body at the time, no matter how lucid he might have sounded. He cared for her, he'd gone to Antarctica for her, there was no refuting that. But was there anything more between them than a shared goal, a platonic partnership, and a deep friendship?

There was for her. She wanted it all.

It was easy to admit that in her head, in the quiet and the dim light of her living room, but was she brave enough to say it to his face? What choice did she have? The water in the snow globe was already in motion. And, if he didn't feel the same way, then what? Her rational brain neatly checked off the options.

The worst scenario would be her confessing that she loved him and him not returning the sentiment and telling her that he still had feelings for Diana. She let the thought congeal like a heavy lump in her stomach. If that were the case, she would leave… quit the FBI for sure, minimize any contact with him. Their work had already been taken away, after all, and Mulder was the only thing keeping her there. Even if Mulder was to get back on the X-Files, she had no doubt that it would be Diana's doing anyway, and there was not a chance in hell that Scully would ever work directly with _her_ , X-Files or no X-Files. She would rather cut her losses and walk away.

Okay, so at worst, she'd have to see Mulder and Diana together for a few weeks while she worked out her resignation notice period. She could manage that.

With her background and experience, there would be a wide variety of positions available to her. She could go back into medicine, look into teaching at either Quantico or a university program. She could apply to be a field agent in another jurisdiction or move over to a police force. Lots of options.

She could go back to London.

But that was rash and unrealistic. Stella had been quite clear that what had happened between them was a one time thing. She would just be setting herself up for more disappointment. And that would be so hard on her mother, having already lost one daughter, to have the other one move so far away.

She took another sip of her cooling tea, tapping her fingers restlessly on the side of the mug.

Was that what she wanted, to leave her partnership with Mulder? No.

Could she live with that outcome? It would be hard.

It was difficult to imagine a life without Mulder in it. But if it was a choice between no Mulder or a Mulder who was romantically involved with Diana… she would learn to live with no Mulder. What choice would she have? The thought made her curl herself up a little tighter under the blanket.

She moved on to the next possibility: Mulder didn't have feelings for her but didn't have any for Diana either. The thought was infinitely more palatable than the first option. She would still have him as her best friend, but she wasn't sure if that was enough for her any more. She was tired of being lonely, tired of wanting something just out of reach. At the end of the day, she wanted someone to cook dinner with, to lie together on opposite ends of the couch reading books, someone who would be brushing their teeth while she washed her face as they got ready for bed, together. Having someone to lie close to at night, making love… The whole thought of it made her heart ache. That was what she wanted. The whole deal. And Mulder was the only person she could see being that someone.

If that wasn't what he wanted, could she go on as they were, close but never close enough?

She closed her eyes tightly for a moment, forcing her fingers to relax around her mug.

What if he did feel the same way about her? She let out a slow breath. As much as it was what she wanted, the thought of upending everything as it was now was still terrifying. She had lived alone since med school… was she just picturing an idealized version of what she thought it might be like? Mulder wasn't exactly tidy, and she tried to imagine a toilet seat left up, toothpaste smears in the sink, sweaty runners kicked off by the front door. And that was the easy stuff to deal with…

How would they handle work? How many times had she been grateful to be able to stomp out of the office after an afternoon of arguing with him over a case and go home to the quiet stillness of her apartment? Would they end up sneaking around, trying to keep their relationship a secret even though she knew full well that everyone already thought they'd been screwing each other for years? How was she going to feel when he ditched her to chase a lead he thought was too important to wait for her?

Her tea had gone cold, but she drank it anyway.

She had one final option. Do nothing. Leave things as they were. On the surface, it felt like the safest choice, but was it really? She thought back to how she had felt on the flight to London, that lingering sense of moroseness, that her life was stagnating and that she was just letting it happen. That wasn't her. She was focused, determined… a fighter. Did she want to sit passively and wait for things to change, or did she want to change them herself? Even if the outcome was bad, it would give her the momentum she needed to move in a new direction. She needed to be honest with herself, she needed to talk to Mulder, and, if need be, she needed to move on.

She sat there, thinking, until the sky outside began to lighten. She put on a pot of coffee and drank a cup as she watched the sun rise. With one hand, she rubbed her lower back over the spot where she'd had the ouroboros permanently etched into her skin a lifetime ago. She felt like she was at a similar crossroads now. Although she had chosen the design on a whim — like the rest of that ill-fated evening — thinking, at the time, about how she always seemed to be running in circles, she had done some reading on the meaning behind the symbol not long afterward, not realizing how fitting a choice she had unconsciously made.

The first records of the ouroboros were from early Egypt, although the name itself came from the Greek words for 'tail' and 'food' and 'eat'. It was an alchemical symbol as well, tied to the element mercury. Perhaps the most famous drawing of an ouroboros came from an ancient alchemical work, The Chrysopoeia of Cleopatra, likely dating back to the third century. That ouroboros, half black and half white, encircled words that translated to "the all is one", symbolizing the universal unity of all things, the simultaneous clash and combination of opposites — light and dark, death and rebirth, male and female, yin and yang. It represented a cycle of infinite renewal and it could be seen as a representation of immortality; that thought had made her think of Clyde Bruckman with a sad sort of fondness.

The idea of opposites had first made her think about the differences between herself and Mulder, the passionate believer versus the logical skeptic. The only time they ever seemed to waver in those roles was when it came to matters of religion and faith, something that Scully still struggled with from time to time, but that Mulder rejected outright. She believed it was one of the reasons that she and Mulder worked so well together, as they each supplied the perspective that the other lacked. Sure, it had led to more than one heated argument but, more often than not, it led them to an insight or idea that helped break open a case or lead them in a new direction.

But it was more personal than that. There were opposites within herself as well, the biggest being between her heart and her head. She had always been the kid with 'a good head on her shoulders', as her mother was fond of saying to the neighbour, Mrs. Johnson, who came over for coffee sometimes in the afternoons. 'It's a good thing, too. I don't think I could handle two of Melissa!'

Missy was the wild one. Impulsive. Heart first, always, in everything she did.

When Missy was sneaking out to meet the group of older teenagers that gathered near the old quarry to drink on Friday nights, Scully was at home, reading or doing homework. She fell in love so fast that it almost always ended in heartbreak, and she felt everything much more deeply than anyone else Scully had ever known. When she was young, Scully had idolized her, had wanted to be exactly like her, but it wasn't effortless for her like it was for Melissa, like trying to stroke the fur of a cat the wrong way.

By the time Scully was a teenager herself, she'd come to accept the fact that that wasn't who she was. She liked it when things were comfortably predictable, she liked math and physics where there were clear methods for solving problems and only one correct answer to a given equation. Everything could be broken down into smaller and smaller logical steps to achieve a desired final outcome. Sure, she still envied Missy at times, but her life wasn't the life Scully wanted for herself. She was going to get into a good university. She was going to be a doctor. She was going to contribute, she was going to help people, she was going to make a difference.

As she'd gotten older, the black and white way of thinking in those earlier years had faded into the muted grey of adulthood, and she'd made her share of decisions where she'd let her heart and her emotions get the better of her. Daniel Watterson had probably been the worst of those, although at least she had broken it off when she'd found out he was married and not let it go any further. God, she'd been so dumb.

She picked some lint off the blanket as she stared down at her knees. Was she about to make the same mistake again? Daniel, Jack… both of them had been authority figures, people she interacted with on a professional level.

She wished Missy were still alive, wished she would just bounce through her apartment door one more time with the vibrance she always exuded, wished they could be having a heart to heart talk about the mess Scully's life had become. She already knew what Missy would say in this situation… Of course she should tell Mulder how she felt. Then she'd know, one way or the other, how things stood between them. Stop dithering at the crossroads. Piss or get off the pot. Scully couldn't help the soft huff of laughter that escaped.

With a long sigh, she stood up and stretched, folding the blanket back neatly over the back of the couch. Sunlight was streaming in through the front windows now on what looked to be a bright Saturday morning, full of promise.

She could feel it, like the whisper of hot water right before it began to boil. Something needed to change, and it was going to happen whether or not it was a planned out, logical decision or a sudden impulse that she couldn't fight any longer until it dragged her, kicking and screaming, over the edge. Her toes were curled over the edge of the cliff and it would come down to jumping or being pushed. Either way, she was going to fall.

* * *

 _Hugs and a giant thank you to my most wonderful beta, Josie Lange!_


	13. Chapter 13

Scully had picked up the phone and put it back down again three times now. This was ridiculous. She picked it up for the fourth time, took a deep breath, and dialled the first number on the business card she'd been worrying between her fingers for the past fifteen minutes.

It rang several times, and then Scully heard the click as it switched over to a voice mail message. "You've reached Detective Chief Inspector Stella Gibson. If this is an urgent matter…"

With a sigh, she lifted the phone away from her ear to hang up when she suddenly heard, "Hello?"

"Uh, hi. It's Dana. I didn't think you were there."

"I was just getting ready for bed. How are you? How was your flight home? Not too sick, I hope."

Scully leaned back against the wall, closing her eyes. "No, it was fine." There was a rustling on the other end of the line — Stella was pulling on a robe, or maybe getting into bed. "How about you? Back to work tomorrow?"

"Yes, thank God. I'm losing my mind with all this forced domesticity." There was a long pause. "But that's not really why you called me, is it?"

"No."

There was another long lull as Stella waited patiently for Scully to speak.

"I've been doing a lot of thinking since I got home, about my life, about what I want. I'm going to talk to Mulder… even though I'm afraid of what he might say."

"Are you worried he's going to reject you or that he's going to fall to his knees and profess his undying affection?"

Scully let out a strangled groan. "God, both? I don't even know anymore."

"Dana, I mean this in the nicest possible way, but you're a mess."

Scully laughed outright. "You think I don't know that? Why do you think I called you?"

"Fine, you want my advice?" Stella's voice was warm in her ear, and Scully slid down the wall into a sitting position.

"Probably not but give it to me anyway."

"Invite him over. Fuck each other stupid. See if you still like each other in the morning."

Scully snorted. "You make it sound so simple."

"Because it is. The only thing making this complicated is the fact that you're afraid to have a basic conversation about what you want."

Scully stared in the direction of her living room, bathed in the lengthening shadows of early evening.

"I know." She shifted the receiver from one ear to the other. "Thanks… for listening. It's good to hear your voice."

Stella was quiet for a moment and then said softly, "I'm glad you called."

"Me, too."

"Talk to him. Call me afterward. Let me know how it goes."

"I will."

"Take care, Dana. Good night."

"Good night."

She hung up the phone, feeling better than she had before, and stood up to go turn on the lights.

* * *

Scully pulled into her usual parking spot in the underground lot beside Mulder's car. It was no surprise that he was already here, even though it was well before seven. She could count on one hand the number of times she'd ever been in before him. She gathered her things from the passenger seat — briefcase, purse, and a small silver plastic bag with a cartoon of a cheekily grinning Scottish man on it. The words 'Up Yer Kilt' were printed below the figure in red letters. She had briefly considered wrapping Mulder's gift, but suspected that the bag would amuse him at least as much as the tie.

Heels clicking on the pavement, she made her way past the security guard and into the building. It still felt strange to not push the 'B' button in the elevator, and she ran one finger over the diagonal crack that bisected the letter after pushing the '5'. The doors opened on the bullpen, still mostly empty, but it would be teeming with people in another hour or two.

She felt a wave of disappointment to see that Mulder wasn't at his desk, although his computer was on and there was a file folder and its contents spread across the surface. She'd been looking forward to seeing him with nervous anticipation. Would he instantly pick up on the changes within her, that she'd spent the entirety of her weekend in some sort of exhaustive mid-life crisis led contemplation? She walked around his desk to place the folded silver bag on his chair, smiling at the sight of his scratchy handwriting and post-it notes stuck to all the papers.

As she came back around to tuck her purse and briefcase away beneath her desk, she noticed the stack of files on the top of her desk with yet another yellow post-it note on the top folder with 'Scully – to review… or just sign off and don't review, no one cares anyway' scrawled across it. She flipped the top one open. Kersh had evidently not let up with the grunt work while she'd been away. With a sigh, she sat down and got to work.

* * *

She'd been at it for more than hour and Mulder still hadn't appeared. Her traitorous brain helpfully supplied several scenarios about what he could be doing downstairs, across his old desk, with Diana Fowley, but she promptly crumpled those images up like a piece of wadded up newspaper. Not going there.

She took a break to stretch and go to the bathroom — she didn't even need to go, but it was a good excuse to get up and move around a little. A cup of coffee would be good right now, she decided, but, of course, the coffee maker in the break room had a sign taped to it that said it was broken. She sighed. Maybe she would finish up her current file and then walk down to the cafeteria.

Her eyes kept drifting up to the clock on the wall, watching the red second hand sweeping around and around, even though it felt like it should be much later in the morning than it actually was. Same old clock. Same old desk. Same old monotony.

But _she_ wasn't the same.

She had spent the weekend worried about things changing, but it had already happened. No matter what the outcome between her and Mulder turned out to be, it was too late. The change had already happened, inside of her.

She wasn't the same person she'd been a week ago.

And that was it. The moment. She could see it as clearly as if someone had pushed the pause button, jabbed her in the side as hard as they could, and then hit play.

She pulled open her desk drawer and pulled out the local phone directory, flipping it open and skimming through until she reached the 'M's. She already knew the name of the place she wanted. It was a fifteen minute walk from the Hoover building and had been there for years, although she'd never really paid it much attention until about two and a half years ago, strangely enough. She wasn't sure she understood why, on a rational level, that she associated major life changes with inking a permanent reminder of it on her skin, but she supposed that this type of rebellion was at least healthier than taking up smoking again.

On some level, she could admit that she liked the pain, feeling a level of physical discomfort that mimicked what she was feeling inside, a way to control and focus those feelings onto a physical patch of skin on her body. At the time she'd gotten her first one, she'd thought it had been the forbidden thrill of defying Mulder, of being with Ed, but now she believed that the arousal she'd felt hadn't had much to do with Ed at all.

She needed that now, needed the burn of the tattoo needle working the ink deep under her epidermis, needed the rush of adrenaline and endorphins that would follow. One way or another, change was coming. A change that she was about to instigate.

For every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction.

She'd met Stella, and that collision had set her on the course she was on now, hurtling towards another impact that would send her life ricocheting off in an, as yet, undetermined direction at an undetermined velocity.

She dialled the number beneath her finger, put the receiver up to her ear, and waited.

"Metamorphosis Tattoos." The woman sounded half asleep, the exact opposite of how Scully was feeling at the moment. She was buzzing with a nervous energy, like she'd been awake all night on a stake out and suddenly the perp had come into view.

"Hi, I'd like to make an appointment for a small simple design — just the outline of a shape, really. In black."

"Sure. Did you want to book a consult first, or are you already decided?"

"No, I don't need a consult. I know exactly what I want and where." She shifted the phone to her other ear as she tapped absentmindedly on the open phone book with her pen. "Listen, is there any chance you have an opening today? I work really close to you and I don't think it will take long at all. I can come in any time."

"Hang on, lemme check." Scully could hear the rustle of pages being flipped and the snap of the bubble gum between her teeth. "Do you have a particular artist in mind?"

"No. Anyone's fine."

"Well, I've got a one hour slot available with Frank at two. Would that work for you?"

"That's perfect." She'd been holding her breath. She didn't want to wait. "I'll be there."

She gave her particulars to the girl and hung up feeling elated, like she felt when there was a new intriguing case in front of her that she couldn't wait to dig into. She hummed to herself as she skimmed through the stack of papers Mulder had left on her desk while she was away, adding her initials to the bottom of each page as she finished reviewing it.

"You're in a good mood," Mulder said over her shoulder and she couldn't help a flinch of surprise, as wrapped up in her own head as she was. "Should I be worried?" He gently set a steaming mug of coffee down on the desk in front of her.

She set her pen down and leaned back in her chair. "Oh, probably." She couldn't help grinning as her eyes flicked to his chest and back up to his face. "Nice tie." He'd evidently been back at his desk when she'd gone to the bathroom and had found the present she'd left for him.

"Thank you." He shook the red tartan end at her. "A mysterious informant left it for me, and I thought it was only prudent to put it on, in case it was some sort of signal."

Scully reached for her mug, wrapping her hands around it and breathing in deeply. "Good plan. Better safe than sorry."

"My thoughts exactly." He flopped down in the desk across from hers, his gaze lingering on her as she blew on her coffee to help it cool faster.

"What?" she finally asked when he was still scrutinizing her, not even pretending to work.

"Nothing. Just nice to have you back. You're much nicer to look at than the alternative."

"Considering that the alternative is a blank wall, I'm flattered," she deadpanned.

Mulder snorted, and Scully tossed the case files she'd finished reviewing and initialling across her desk to land squarely on his. "Here you go. All ready for filing."

He slid them towards himself with a groan. "Geez, Scully, you really know how to live."

She thought of the appointment she'd just made and took a cautious sip of her coffee even though it was still hot enough to nearly burn her tongue and got back to work with a hint of a smile on her face. If Mulder noticed it, he didn't say anything.

The next two hours passed quickly, and she wasn't paying much attention to the time until Mulder was stretching his arms over his head with a mumbled half yawn and asking her where she wanted to go for lunch.

"Oh, sorry, Mulder. I can't today. I have to duck out for a quick appointment at two, so I really should just work through."

"Oh. Okay." She saw a flash of disappointment in his eyes followed quickly by one of worry, although he flicked his eyes down and pretended to adjust some papers on his desk for a moment to hide it. "Doctor?" he asked the top of his desk rather than her.

"No, nothing like that."

"Okay. Good." He looked up at her again and she could see the tension in his shoulders release. "I'll just grab something from the cafeteria then. You want anything?" He stood up and took his suit jacket off the back of his chair and slipped it on.

"Sure. A salad would be great. Dressing on the side." She hesitated. He could see her thinking and he stilled, waiting. "And… a cookie. Chocolate chip. Please."

He raised an eyebrow at the unexpected request and then grinned. "Salad and a cookie. You got it."

He had taken a few steps before she heard herself unexpectedly say, "Mulder?"

"Yeah?" Her gaze caught on his brightly coloured tie as he turned back to face her.

"Do you have any plans for this Friday night?" The words came out, tumbling one after the other, and this time she just let them fall where they landed instead of biting her lip and swallowing them back down like she usually did. She had shaken up the metaphorical dice and scattered them across the table.

Mulder shrugged deprecatingly, his hands in his pockets, but his eyes had brightened. "Just the usual. Although, I think the Sci-Fi channel _is_ re-running that Twilight Zone marathon."

"Did you want to come over for dinner and a movie? I'll cook, um, something that will hopefully be edible, or we can order in." She'd never been much of a cook, there hadn't seemed much point when she only needed to feed herself, but she could do the basics.

"Sure. That would be great. What time?"

"I don't know… six thirty?"

"I'll be there."

He flashed her a smile and then turned and began walking towards the elevators, jangling the coins in his pocket. She was sure she was just seeing things, but she thought his steps seemed a little bit lighter.

* * *

 _Thank you to all of you reading! And, as always, oodles of hugs a giant thank you to my awesome beta, Josie Lange!_


	14. Chapter 14

Her nerves seemed to get the better of her now that she had finally set things in motion, and she was jumpy and on edge with each day closer to Friday. Mulder had gone from amused to puzzled to wary at her behaviour, and part of her was tempted to just write him a long letter, tuck it under his windshield wipers, and flee the country for a few days until he'd read it. Why did she have to pick Friday? If she'd said Wednesday instead, this would all be over by now.

It didn't help that Diana was still making her daily appearance at Mulder's desk, shooting Scully little half smirks as she leaned over him to point out some fascinating inaccuracy she'd uncovered in one of the files she and Mulder no longer had access to — although she was clearly more than willing to grant him access to more than just the files. If she had to hear that woman purr out his name like she was about to orgasm all over his desk, Scully thought she might lose it completely.

Her new tattoo was healing nicely at least, and she derived a weird sort of comfort whenever her clothing brushed across it. Somehow, that twinge of pain reminded her that it was there, that she was capable of breaking out of the patterns of behaviour that kept her circling but never advancing. A psychiatrist would have a field day with her, she thought with a wry shake of her head.

She was a wreck by Friday morning, and had lost her appetite completely. She'd gone out for lunch with Mulder, as was their usual routine, but she just picked at the lettuce and bits of chicken, barely tasting the few bites she was able to get down.

"Everything okay, Scully?" Mulder frowned at her worriedly and she noticed that he'd turned his plate towards her to make it easier for her to reach his french fries. The thought of them made her stomach roll over.

"Yeah. Fine." She gamely speared a chunk of tomato and forced herself to chew and swallow.

"Are you not feeling well? Would you rather I didn't come over tonight? We could always—"

"No!" The word came out more forcefully than she'd intended, and he looked startled. "No, we don't have to cancel." She set her fork down and fidgeted with her napkin. "I wanted to… to talk to you about something, something… important, and I don't want to put it off any longer."

She looked up through the sheen of hair that had fallen into her eyes. He was looking at her with concern, but she didn't know how to allay his fears without getting into everything right here, right now, and she didn't want to do that. Not in a restaurant with a full afternoon of work still ahead of them.

"Okay. No problem."

She nodded, picking her fork back up again and pretending to eat.

When they paid the bill and headed back to the office, she pretended not to notice that he hadn't eaten any of his fries, likely still hoping she might take some, and he didn't mention how much of her salad she had left behind. They were good at pretending, at not talking, and that thought made her melancholy, like putting on a pair of socks right out of the dryer and discovering after you'd put them on that they were still damp.

They walked in silence back to the office.

* * *

 _Newton's Third Law of Motion - Whenever one body exerts a force on another, the latter simultaneously exerts an equal and opposite force on the first. For every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction._

Scully rubbed her palms on her slacks as she paced. Mulder would be here at any moment and she still had no idea what she was even going to say to him or how she was going to say it. He was going to be hurt — of course he was. There was no avoiding that. What did she want him to say? What did she want to happen? What did he truly want? She didn't know any of those things either. The only thing she could say, with any certainty, was that she missed the calming presence of Stella's cool professional reserve and wished that she could channel some of that for herself.

She did another circuit back and forth across the kitchen, pausing to stir the vegetable barley soup bubbling on the stove. The salad was already made and in the fridge, and the loaf of French bread she'd picked up at the bakery on the way home just needed to be warmed up a little in the oven. Her stomach ached like it had been twisted into a balloon animal and she felt a little light headed from being unable to eat much all day. God, she _was_ a mess, as Stella had told her with perfect honesty over the phone. Somehow, she'd always thought she'd have had it all together by this point in her life. The thought almost made her laugh. Had she laughed out loud, she was quite sure it would have come out slightly hysterical.

Her eyes settled on the bottle of red wine on the counter. She could open it now. That would keep her occupied and prevent her from looking at her watch. Any minute. Any minute now and Mulder would be knocking on her door and she would be initiating what might possibly be the most awkward conversation she'd ever had.

With shaking fingers, she twisted the corkscrew down into the soft cork and began to wiggle the cork free from the neck of the bottle.

He knocked. Three times. The door rattled in the frame. It never hung right with the number of times it had been busted open and rehung.

She nearly dropped the bottle. How was she going to do this? Maybe she could put this off for another few weeks or months. Maybe they could just continue on in this endless purgatory…

Okay. She just needed to breathe, slow down the way her heart was racing in her chest. One step at a time.

She took a step towards the door.

Her breath was coming too fast, like her ribs were compressing her lungs inward; clawed hands of bone choking and squeezing. Dammit! Her pulse was echoing in her ears and the edges of her vision were ringed with the encroaching darkness. She leaned back against the edge of the counter and wiped away the clammy sweat that had formed on her forehead.

The sound of knocking came again — at least, she thought it was a knock, but the thudding of her heart was so loud, drowning out everything else. She couldn't see, everything had gone black. Her chest was heaving as she tried to pull in panicked gasps of air, fighting against the sensation of being crushed like plastic pop bottle in a vacuum chamber.

So dark. No air.

Then, nothing.

* * *

 _Apologies for the short chapter, but the next one is long, so hopefully that will make up for it. :) Squishy hugs and a giant thank you to Josie Lange for her mad beta skillz._


	15. Chapter 15

"Scully."

The voice sounded like it was coming from underwater, so far away that maybe all she was hearing was the distant echo of the sound rather than the sound itself.

"Scully. C'mon, it's okay. I've got you."

Louder this time. Clearer. Closer. There was a sensation she couldn't place.

"I know you don't want me to call an ambulance, so how about opening your eyes for me so we can avoid all of that, huh?"

Mulder. Mulder's voice. Mulder's fingers tracing over her cheeks. With a groan, she opened her eyes and blinked. The lights overhead seemed so much brighter than she remembered.

"Hey." His face was blurry as she tried to focus on it. "Welcome back."

"What happened?" She stumbled over her words like an unexpected break in a slab of concrete.

"You tell me. You were lying on the floor when I came in."

Her head was cradled in his lap as he sat cross legged on her kitchen floor. "I think I must have fainted." She twisted her legs, preparing to sit up, but it sent another rush of dizziness through her.

"Are you okay? Do you need to go to the hospital?" His eyebrows were furrowed in concern, his thumb still lightly brushing her cheek.

"No, just didn't eat enough today I think."

"Do you want to go to the couch and I'll get you a glass of water?"

"Yeah. Okay." She closed her eyes and swallowed.

Mulder eased her head out of his lap and carefully stood up. "Do you want me to carry you or can you stand?"

"I think I can stand." She moved her legs again but, thankfully, there was no corresponding rush of dizziness.

"Here." Mulder bent down. "Put your hands around my neck."

There was a wave of nausea as she came fully upright, but Mulder took most of her weight as they awkwardly walked towards the couch. He set her down in the reverse motion of how he had helped her up.

"Thank you." She let her head loll against the back of the couch as he pulled the fleece blanket off the back and draped it over top of her.

Scully shivered, pulling the blanket in more tightly around her body as Mulder disappeared into the kitchen before returning with a glass of water. "Take this. Do you have any crackers or something?"

Scully nodded, forcing herself to take a small sip of water. "There are some soda crackers in the bottom cupboard. The one left of the sink. Oh, and can you turn the heat off on the soup?" That was all she needed right now, to burn the whole place to the ground.

She'd managed a few more careful gulps of water by the time he came back with a sleeve of crackers and he sat down on the couch next to her before handing her a few.

"Thanks." She set the glass down on the table next to her and nibbled on a cracker. Bland and tasteless with just a hint of salt. Perfect.

Mulder was trying not to stare at her, looking around the room as though he'd never seen it before. She'd eaten two crackers by the time he cleared his throat and spoke again.

"So, is everything okay? You… well, you haven't seemed like yourself this week and then, when you said you wanted to talk tonight…" His words trailed off and she watched his Adam's apple bob as he swallowed, his fingers clutching his own knee a little too tightly. "Are you… are you sick again? I'd rather know if it's… I mean, I want to…"

She reached out her hand and placed it over top of his. It was so much warmer, so much bigger than her own. "I'm not sick. I promise. I would have told you right away."

"Oh." She could see the tension evaporate out of him as his posture relaxed. "Oh. Okay. That's good. Every time you tell me we need to talk, I can't help but worry, you know."

The crackers she'd eaten were a dry congealed mass stuck in her throat. She turned away from his eyes, unable to meet the emotions she saw there. She took her hand back and pulled her knees up to her chest, wrapping her arms around them beneath the blanket. "But, there is something that I need to tell you, that we need to talk about." She had to look at him. She deserved to see the hurt she was about to inflict reflected there.

"What is it?" The worried look was back as he studied her.

"I met someone. In London."

There was a flicker of something in his eyes as he waited for her to continue. Surprise. Worry. He was holding his breath. Confusion. His jaw tightened and his eyes narrowed. Anger?

She licked her lips, although it didn't help with the way they felt cracked, stretched too thin. "We spent a few days together, after the conference was over." She wanted another sip of water, her mouth was dry and she was trembling now, but she was afraid of stopping now that she'd started. "For the first time in a long time… I felt…" She wished she knew how to even put it into words. "I felt like I'd found a part of myself that had been gone for such a long time that I hadn't even realized it was missing."

Mulder's fingers were digging into his knee as he let out a rough exhalation of breath like he'd been punched in the stomach, but he didn't say anything. Just looked at her with his moss-coloured eyes that looked like the light in them had been extinguished.

Scully twisted her own fingers more tightly together as she forced herself to go on. "The last little while, I've felt… adrift. Alone. We've lost the X-Files. And," she blinked, feeling the tears starting to form in her eyes, "I don't know where things stand between us. I know, when I first started, that you didn't trust me, but, with everything we've been through together, I thought I had proven myself to you. I thought that we'd reached the point where it was just a given, but… obviously I was mistaken."

She wiped away tear at the corner of her eye with her thumb before it could escape down her cheek.

"Diana." Mulder's voice was thick and, even though he was just at the other end of the couch, it felt like an insurmountable distance.

Scully nodded. "I was…" Her fingers were starting to ache and she needed the pain, needed them to hurt. All or nothing, it was coming out now. She had to look down for this part or she didn't think she'd be able to get it out. "I envied her past relationship with you and was hurt that you'd never even thought it was worth telling me about someone who had obviously been very important to you. It hurt that you didn't trust me. It hurt that you were willing to throw my trust away, that hers meant more to you than mine. I didn't know what to believe any more. Who could I trust if I couldn't trust you? I didn't even feel like I could trust myself any more. That maybe you were right, and my judgment was being affected by my emotional state."

She tried not to sniffle, but it was getting more and more difficult to keep the tears from falling. "I was jealous. You told me," her voice hitched, "you told me that I was making it personal, like it wasn't personal for you, like I didn't mean the same to you as you do to me." A tear dropped off the end of her nose and landed on the blanket. "It _is_ personal for me." She finally looked up at him, tears rolling furiously down her cheeks now. "It's been personal for me for a long time. And, if you don't feel the same, then I need to leave. I need to get away from you because it _hurts_ … it hurts too much and I don't know how much longer I can do it. You're my best friend." The word broke on a soft sob. "We're so intertwined – our lives, our work — but it's not enough for me. Not any more."

She couldn't go on and she lowered her head to her knees, her back shaking with the effort of holding in the sounds that were clawing their way out of the deepest pits of her, trying to escape out her throat. Her body didn't even feel like her own — her head as light as a balloon that might float away, her palate aching with thirst. The essence of her clung like wisps to the bare bones of her physical form and she didn't even have the mental strength to want to stay grounded. Half in her body and half out, she lost all sense of how long they sat there. Mulder was silent while she made enough noise for the two of them.

When she'd cried herself out — he made no effort to touch her, to comfort her, like he had earlier — the first sensation to come back was how much everything ached. There was a throbbing in her head and her eyes felt raw and scratchy. She was afraid to lift her head, half believing that he wouldn't even be there when she did, but he was.

He blew out of a long breath and she could see where a tear of his own making had run down his cheek. His eyes looked as red and watery as her own. "So, that's it then. You're leaving." His voice was flat and quiet.

"That's not what I want."

"What _do_ you want?"

She'd written the list of things she wanted out on a page in her journal last night, but it seemed so much more terrifying to say them aloud. To admit them in a way that couldn't be crumpled up and torn away. All or nothing. She met his stare, missing the warmth that was normally there. This would break them or unite them.

"I want… I want the X-Files back." Start with an easy one, build up momentum until there was nothing she could do to stop the inevitable acceleration. "I want us to work together on cases that matter, to continue what we started, to find the truth and bring those responsible to justice. I want…" Oh God, could she do this? She was trapped in Mulder's eyes, afraid to blink or look away. "I want Diana out of our lives, out of your life. I want you to believe in me, to trust me, more than anyone else."

"I already do—"

"No!" She stopped him harshly. "Just listen. Please." He closed his mouth again but stretched his hand toward her. Her own fingers were numb, clutched together for so long, but she pulled them apart and out from under the blanket to grasp his with a tight fury that made him gasp. The blanket slipped off her legs to the floor, unnoticed. There was no stopping it now. "I want… I want you. I want you to be mine and no one else's."

Her voice dropped to the husk of a whisper and she was afraid, so afraid, of what she was going to see in his eyes next. She wiped away more tears; how could she even have any left in her to cry? "I want you as more than my partner, more than my friend. I don't want to be your quest or part of the cause that drives you. I just want to stand next to you while we brush our teeth." Mulder's eyebrows went up at that. "I want to trip over your stupid shoes that you didn't put away. I want to get into the same car with you at the end of the day and listen to you singing to the radio." She took a deep breath, trying not to shake, but she felt so cold and shivery that her teeth were chattering. "I just want… I just want, more than anything, for you to want me the same way. Just me."

She couldn't help it, she closed her eyes, afraid to see, letting the tears flow once more. She couldn't remember the last time she had cried herself empty, and now she was afraid she might never stop.

"Scully?" His hand tightened in her own. "Oh, Scully." He pulled her towards him and wrapped his arms around her shaking form. "Please don't cry. Don't cry."

After a few minutes, he slid his fingers under her chin, trying to tilt her face up to meet his. "I don't want your pity, Mulder." She sniffled inelegantly, struggling to breathe through the stuffiness of her nose. She'd soaked the top of his shirt.

"This isn't pity. Now, c'mon, look at me. You said you wanted to talk, so let me talk, too." His thumb traced along the underside of each of her eyes, smoothing away the trails of salt and water, as he waited for her to open her eyes. Finally, she blinked a few times, but kept her eyes open.

"Hi." The roll of his thumbs over her skin was soothing. He traced the sweep of her cheekbones in a slow arc, coming down the sides of her jaw. She felt like wrung out dishrag, drained and incapable of movement. He gave her a soft smile, his eyes gentle.

She managed a watery half smile back at him. "Hi."

His thumbs slid slowly down to her chin and then up to her mouth, letting them rest for a moment on the plumpness of her lower lip before continuing the caress back to her cheekbones. "Do you want to know what I want?"

"What?" she whispered.

"I want the X-Files back, too. I want to quit working on shitty background checks and wiretaps. I wouldn't complain if Kersh were to suffer some sort of debilitating accident, but that one's optional." She huffed, and he smiled before tucking a damp curl of hair behind her ear and then continued to stroke gently along her hairline. "I want to find the people behind what happened to Samantha, what happened to you, and to make sure that it never happens to anyone else."

He wrapped his arms around her more closely and she tucked her head against his chest. His rested his head against the top of hers and she could feel the warmth of his breath against her scalp and the rumbling vibration in his chest as he went on.

"I wish I had told you about Diana earlier, but I didn't think we would ever cross paths again. When she left me, I tried to put it all behind me. What would I have even said? I already felt like an idiot for falling so hard for her when she obviously didn't feel the same way about me. I thought, back then, that that's what love was, this… all-consuming _thing_. So, when she left, I wanted to believe that she'd had an equally all-consuming reason to have to go. I didn't understand how she could throw it all away, like it was nothing, a triviality."

She shifted against him and he began to stroke her hair. The cadence of his voice was soothing, comforting. "Back then, all I'd wanted was for her to come back to me, to come bursting through the door telling me she'd made a terrible mistake. But, when I saw her again, that wasn't what I felt at all. I felt… relieved."

"Relieved?"

"Yeah. Relieved. I'd thought I might feel hurt, that I might feel overwhelmed with how much I still wanted her, that she would tell me how wrong she'd been to leave."

Scully tensed, prickling uncomfortably, but he just held her a little more tightly as he went on.

"But, I didn't. I didn't feel any of those things. Talking to her again in the hospital room with Gibson, it was like trying to compare a candle to a bonfire. What I'd felt for her was so laughably insubstantial compared to what I felt for you that I couldn't feel anything but relief. She had no power over me. Not any more. The way she'd left me didn't matter. It didn't matter at all when all I could think about was how she was nothing compared to you."

"Mulder." Her murmur of his name vanished in the damp fabric of his t-shirt as he pressed a kiss to the top of her head.

"I tried to give her the benefit of the doubt. I guess part of me still wanted to believe, even though she'd hurt me and betrayed my trust, that she wouldn't turn traitor, that she wouldn't willingly work with the people who had caused me so much pain. It wasn't that I didn't believe you, Scully. It was that I didn't _want_ to believe you. I'm sorry. I never doubted you. I felt like an idiot and it was like she had betrayed me all over again and I took it out on you. You didn't deserve that."

She lifted her head, edging back out of his embrace. "It's okay." She pulled his head down to kiss his forehead and then left her cheek resting against him, wanting to feel close.

He drew in a shuddering breath, one of his hands splayed across her back, the other running slow strokes up and down her spine.

"I don't want you to leave me. That, more than anything. I want to be able to talk to you whenever I need to hear your voice, no matter what time it is. I want to make you laugh. You're so beautiful when you laugh." His words were tumbling out fast and furious now, the rush of flood waters over a dry riverbed. "I want to right the wrongs that have been done to you. I want to give you enough happiness to make up for all the bad things you've gone through because of me and the work we do. I want to see your face first thing when I wake up in the morning and I want it to be the last thing I see when I close my eyes at night, knowing you're there beside me."

She pulled back. His eyes were closed, clenched tightly shut. "Look at me. Please."

His breathing was shallow, his lips slightly parted, as he met her eyes. They were so close that she could feel the warmth of his breath on her face.

"I want to be worthy of you, of the trust you put in me, of the faith you have in me, even when I can't see it for myself." His nose brushed against hers. "I'm already yours. Only yours. How could it ever be otherwise?" Scully allowed her eyes to fall closed. She couldn't stop shaking. Her heart was going to explode, spasming in her chest; more than hammering, it was nearly vibrating. She was so emotionally exhausted that she felt paralyzed, fragile. She was holding on to his voice, his words, as the only thing that was keeping her mind anchored to her body.

"Scully," his voice was barely the breath of a whisper, "I want you."

She whimpered, unable to keep the sound from escaping. He was close, so close, but not nearly close enough.

"I want to hold you in my arms every night. I want to kiss you, I want to make love to you…" His breath hitched as the hint of her lips touched his own. "I want you. Just you. Only you. For so long."

She kissed him — hard — her mouth claiming his and he groaned, a low rumble that she felt in her mouth, in her throat, in her chest. His lips were already parted, his tongue sweeping along her lower lip as his thumbs had done earlier.

His hands, warm and large, were splayed across her back, holding her close, holding her steady, and it felt like his hands and his mouth were the only things anchoring her to this plane of existence. She slid forward so she could straddle his lap, needing to be closer, and they both moaned she settled herself fully against him, feeling him hot and hard beneath her.

She moved away from his mouth, wanting to taste the salt of his skin as she moved down his jaw to his neck. The scrape of his stubble against the softness of her skin combined with the subdued musk of his cologne was sending her nervous system into overdrive. This was Mulder, her body was practically chanting. This was Mulder. She felt almost overstimulated to the point of pain combined with a crushing need for more — she wanted his hands, his mouth, the weight of him on top of her, enveloping her. The bed would have made this so much easier, but it was too far away. They'd never make it. She needed him pressed to every inch of her and she needed it right now.

She sucked and licked the skin at the base of his throat, struggling not to bite down, as much as she wanted to.

"Mmmm… Scully…" His head was thrown back, his mouth open as he panted for breath. His hands were under her sweater, stroking her back only to pause and clutch at her desperately each time she drew his skin into the vacuum she was creating with her mouth. His hips were unconsciously thrusting up against her, sending waves of warmth to her core. "Can I… can I take this off?" He pulled half-heartedly at the hem of her shirt, too overcome for any sort of coordination.

"Yes. Please." The words were mumbled between kisses and controlled scrapes of her teeth, but then she forced herself to sit up.

Mulder was sprawled across the corner of the couch between the back and the arm, looking as wild and out of control as she felt. His eyes were wide and dark, his pupils were huge circles, his lips were pink and swollen from her mouth, and his hair was mussed. She was so aroused she could hardly bear to look at him. They just stared at one another. And stared.

"Scully, is this real? I'm not dreaming… please, tell me I'm not dreaming," he finally said in a dazed voice.

She couldn't help it. She began to laugh and soon he was laughing with her. She was bent over, clutching her stomach as tears escaped from the corners of her eyes. She couldn't breathe. Her abdominal muscles hurt. But the sheer absurdity of it all was too much to take.

It took her longer to stop than he did, as he leaned forward to kiss each of her closed eyelids in turn, damp with the good kind of tears this time. He stroked the contours of her face with one finger, her eyebrows, the slope of her nose, around the curve of her upper lip. When she'd calmed and was able to open her eyes once more, he was watching her intently, his eyes burning with desire.

Scully reached down and took the bottom of her sweater in her hands, pulling it up and off in one swift movement before tossing it to the side. She didn't miss how Mulder's eyes widened, how his Adam's apple gave a quick bob, how his teeth bit down on his lower lip. She was wearing one of the sets she'd bought in Edinburgh but had yet to actually wear. It was a muted sea green with a hint of turquoise, criss-crossing over a sheer fabric in a pattern that gave the effect of stained glass. She could feel her nipples, hard against the fabric, but she waited for Mulder to drink his fill before she gave the bottom of his tee-shirt a tug. "Yours, too. I want to see you."

She slid back a little so he could sit up, and then she reached down to help him with his shirt. His shirt joined hers, tossed somewhere over the back of the couch to the floor, and then she was running her hands over the muscles of his bare chest, unable to stop herself. His skin was flushed and hot and wonderful.

He leaned his head down, mouthing at her breasts through the lace of the bra. With her hands in his hair, she leaned back to give him better access, moaning as he suckled each nipple in turn, making them ache with the pleasure of it. The lean muscles of his thighs were trapped between her own as she sat straddled across his lap, and she couldn't help grinding her core against the hard ridge of him beneath the rough denim of his jeans.

His hands were fumbling at her back, searching for the clasp half-heartedly, most of his attention still focused on the broken rhythm of his mouth over the valleys of her breasts. The rough stubble on his cheeks burned and prickled against the soft pale skin spilling out over the cups of her bra.

Finally, when she'd nearly reached the point of telling him to just tear the damn thing off her, the clasp gave way and she managed to pull his head away long enough to pull it over her arms and toss it away behind her as fast as she could before wrapping her arms around his shoulders to pull their upper bodies together.

They groaned simultaneously. His large hands were splayed across her back as she rocked herself back and forth against him, devouring his mouth, not caring when their teeth crashed together or when he bit and pulled at her lower lip and it began to bleed. Her breasts were pressed against the delicious scratchiness of his chest and she wished it were possible for him to swallow her whole.

She could already feel the molten lava of her impending orgasm and they were both still clothed from the waist down. His hands were everywhere on her body, dragging down her back, wrapping around her hips, moving up to knead her breasts. It was as though she was made of wet clay and he was molding her, shaping her, around him.

Without taking her mouth from his, she moved her hands down to the snap at the top of his jeans, tugging at it violently until it let go and she could work the zipper down. The hard bulge of his erection was still trapped in his boxers, and his fingers clenched against her hips as she brushed over it with the backs of her fingers.

"Scully…" Her name was a drawn out moan, gravelled and low, as his hips tilted up to chase her hand.

She raised herself up onto her knees and began frantically tugging at her leggings, working her underwear down and off with them. As soon as he realized what she was doing, Mulder began doing the same thing with his own clothing, both of them increasingly desperate with desire.

Scully finished first, shoving the tangle of her inside-out clothing aside, and then she turned to help Mulder, pulling his jeans and boxers off his ankles where he hadn't been able to reach. She scarcely had time to look at him, sprawled wantonly across her couch, before he was dragging her back up his body.

"Need you, want you," he was murmuring, his eyelids half closed as he pressed searing kisses all over her forehead , her cheeks, her nose, her lips.

"Please, Mulder…" The desperation in her voice didn't even come close to how badly she needed to feel him inside her. Now. Right now. She couldn't wait any longer.

Reaching between them, she circled her hand around the base of him to hold him still, feeling the thudding pulse of his heartbeat beneath her fingers. Oh, God…

She sunk down on him with a loud cry of pleasure as he instinctively surged up against her, filling her as deep as he could go. "More."

He let out a low whine as she pulled herself up on her knees and then rocked back down again, his hands once again on her hips as they fell into rhythm with each other. His fingers stung where they were digging in to her newly inked skin, but she didn't care… if anything, it just served to heighten the pleasure of everything else.

He was talking, of course he was talking, the man never shut up, but they were nonsense words of endearment — so good, you feel so good, need you, don't ever want this stop — and, damn, if the sound of his voice wasn't sending her hurtling closer and closer to the edge.

"Want to feel you come," he murmured, moving his hand down between them so he could swirl the pad of his thumb over her clitoris. "I want you to come for me. I want to watch you."

His eyes were the darkest she had ever seen them, and it was a struggle to keep her own eyes fixed on his. She was already starting to shake with the beginnings of her orgasm. So close. She was so close.

"God, let go for me, Scully. You're so fucking beautiful you make my heart hurt."

"Mulder!" She was full of light and coming apart at the seams as she shattered in his arms, sobbing his name. Still in the throes of it, she felt as he surged up against her, hard, his teeth biting into her shoulder as he pulsed inside her.

It felt like the waves of pleasure would never stop, the two of them still tense as they rode out the aftershocks together until she collapsed against his chest, utterly spent.

* * *

 _Another long chapter to follow this one, as these two still have a lot of talking to do. Thank you to my most wonderful beta, the fabulous Josie Lange, and thank you to everyone reading!_


	16. Chapter 16

"Scully?"

"Hmm?" She was already drifting, half asleep, her body throbbing and sated. She felt like she'd just run a marathon, both physically and emotionally drained. At least they'd managed to stagger to the bedroom before she'd completely lost the will to move. His fingers were tracing circles around the ball of her shoulder and it was soothing, pulling her down deeper and deeper.

"Are you awake enough to talk, just for a minute?"

She rolled over to face him, tucking her head against his chest and struggling not to yawn. "Sure."

"I just wanted to ask… about something you said earlier. That you'd met someone in London."

She was wide awake now, a trickle of ice water dripping down her spine to collect in the pit of her stomach. She was going to tell him the truth, anything he asked. She owed him that.

"I did."

"What kind of someone? Like…" He trailed off and she could feel his heart rate increasing beneath her cheek. All she could do was wait. Was this all going to be over before it had even begun? "Was it someone like Ed Jerse?"

She swallowed, not sure how to answer. It hadn't really been like Ed at all. Ed had been a desperate act of rebellion, a need to be noticed, to break free of the control she both craved and sometimes fought against when it all became too much. So, how was what she had experienced with Stella different? It hadn't been a frantic act to prove to herself that she was in charge of her own life. It had felt more like a coming to terms, an acceptance, of who she was and who she wasn't.

She realized she had been silent far too long and that Mulder was undoubtedly thinking the worst.

"No," she whispered, "not like that."

"But you got another tattoo." His fingers were still caressing her exposed shoulder and he hadn't hesitated in his movements, but she could sense his uncertainty. He wanted to know, but he was afraid. Hell, so was she. She imagined she could still feel the burning prickle of the tattoo needle in the hollow of her hip bone.

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Because I needed to. For me."

His fingers left her shoulder and trailed downward until they stopped on her lower back. He traced a slow circle there before he spoke again. "I think I know what this one means now, what it meant to you at the time. For me, it was always a reminder not to take you for granted." His fingers moved onward to the flesh of her hip where her leg was twined over top of his. He couldn't reach the underside, but he tapped the tip of his finger on the opposite side. "Will you tell me about it? Why a triangle? Or is it some sort of pyramid? Was it some Egyptian guy?" She could tell from the strain in his voice that he wasn't really feeling the humour in it, that he was deflecting to protect himself from what he feared to hear in her answer.

"It's the Greek letter delta." She traced a triangle of her own on his chest as she spoke. "It's the symbol that denotes change. Once a physics major, always a physics major, I guess." She blew out a breath as Mulder's fingers echoed her own, sketching a triangle on the back of her hip and she shivered. "I was ready for things to be different, to take a chance, to try and break out of the patterns that have dominated my life for so long. It was time to stop the circle, one way or another."

Mulder hummed in response and they lay together in silence for a few minutes.

"It wasn't a man," Scully said finally, into the darkness of the room. "It was a woman."

There was silence again as Mulder digested this tidbit of information.

"A friend?"

She bit down on her lip, pinching it between her canines until it hurt. "More than a friend."

"A lover?"

"Yes." It wasn't what she had expected or intended to happen — it had just been part of the natural flow of things, cause and effect, action and reaction.

She didn't know if Mulder would understand, if she even could make him understand. It's not like it had been some sort of transcendent epiphany or something equally ridiculous… it had simply been what she'd needed, when she'd needed it, to interrupt the pattern of behaviour she'd been locked in for so long.

"Why?" He was hurt, of course he was, and she felt terrible for that pain. She knew he was already internalizing it – this was his fault, he'd driven her to it, driven her away. His self-centered desire to punish himself for everything that happened to the people around him made her crazy.

"Not everything is about you, Mulder," she said softly, and he snorted, no doubt remembering the last time she'd said those same words to him, but she owed him a proper explanation this time. "When I realized that my feelings for you went beyond work, beyond our friendship, I fought to bury them for a long time. I was terrified. Do you know why?"

He pulled her closer, resting his chin against the top of her head. "Tell me."

"Because I saw myself repeating the same behaviours, the same patterns, that had collapsed in on me before. I am attracted to the men who control me, who have power over me, who challenge me. I crave the approval of those men. I subvert myself to get it and then, once I have it, the appeal is gone, like a light switch has been flicked off. Once that happens, all I want to do is exert my control. I rebel, I push back. I do everything in my power to drive them away.

"I saw myself doing the same thing with you. I was attracted to you — not just physically, but to your passion, your drive for truth and for what you believed needed to be done. Giving myself over to it was a rush, being a part of something bigger than myself. But, soon it was more than just the work. What I felt for you got deeper, more overwhelming, and I didn't know what to do about it except to deny that it was happening. The more I felt I was losing control, the more I pushed you away personally. We had the work to keep us together and I convinced myself that it was enough, that I could channel everything I felt into our common cause. It was safer. Even if I argued with you, challenged you, I knew you couldn't walk away from the X-Files and, therefore, you couldn't walk away from me.

"And, then we lost it. And Diana showed up. And I felt like I didn't know anything anymore. Our work was gone, and I'd lost you. You weren't even mine, and I'd lost you."

She sighed, and he rubbed his cheek over her hair, strands catching in the stubble on his jaw. "You hadn't lost me. I don't think you could ever do that."

"I thought I had. On the flight to London, all I could think about was that none of it mattered. What had I accomplished in the last six years? I'd put everything I had into our work and our partnership and, along the way, I'd lost myself. I don't know if this even makes any sense…"

"Sometimes, it doesn't have to make sense." His jaw moved against her scalp. "Just by talking, one thought to the next, the mind makes connections that we can't put into words, a feeling more than a process."

"And then I met Stella, at the conference."

"Stella," she heard him murmur under his breath, rolling the syllables around in his mouth.

"She was everything I'd ever wished I could be. Confident, impeccably put together, determined, strong."

"Scully, how could you possibly think that you aren't already all of those things?" he said incredulously.

She huffed out a sound that was a combination of a scoff and a laugh. "You don't get it. She _embodies_ them. I can project those attributes, but I feel like I'm just an imposter, hoping that if I pretend hard enough it'll actually be true. Why do you think I always worried that you just saw me as a stand in for your sister, as the geeky lab partner you kept around because I'd do the grunt work and leave you free to chase off wherever your whims might take you, knowing full well that I'd file the expense reports and whatever else needed doing to keep Skinner happy."

"Is that really what you thought?"

"Sometimes, yeah, it was. How was I supposed to compete with someone like Diana? Tall, beautiful, a believer in the paranormal and supernatural, and you had already been intimately involved with her, so clearly she did it for you. And, you clearly had no reservations about the fact that _she_ was your partner."

"Ouch."

She paused. "I'm sorry. That isn't fair. It's just… emotions aren't always rational things. Seeing you with her made me feel insecure about what I meant to you and, in turn, it made me doubt myself."

"I can understand that. I wish you had just talked to me about it."

"I couldn't. I needed to sort myself out first. It isn't your job to fix me or protect me or define me. I needed to do it for myself." She nibbled on the corner of her lip as she thought. "We're so close to each other that I think it's easy to lose perspective. Let's be honest, I think we're both self-aware enough to be able to admit that we have strong codependent tendencies."

Mulder snorted a quiet laugh out his nose. "Maybe just a little."

He didn't say anything for a long time, and Scully lay there, listening to the calming sound of his breathing.

"Do you have feelings for her — for Stella?"

He was quiet now, so quiet, and this was the specific topic she had dreaded before he'd even walked through her door tonight. She just had to hope that he would listen to her all the way through before he came to his conclusion to storm out on her right now, or to stay.

"I… I don't know. Sort of. It wasn't a meaningless physical thing, but I knew, right from the beginning, that it wasn't — couldn't be — anything more than it was. It was what I needed to force myself to question what it was that I wanted, and there was an emotional connection." She swallowed tightly. "I'm sorry if that doesn't make sense and if it hurts you. I think… I think I could have fallen in love with her, under different circumstances or at a different time in my life." Reaching for his hand, she twined her fingers with his and then raised their joined hands to her lips, kissing the back of his hand softly. "But I made a choice. And that choice was you. It's been you for a long time. I can't imagine my life without you in it, and I don't want to, if I have the option."

Mulder blew out a long, shaky breath. "You don't know how long I've been waiting to hear that. It's been you for a long time for me, too." His voice prickled with hurt. "Would you really have left if I hadn't felt the same way?"

It was hard to force herself to speak the truth, but she knew she owed him her full honesty. "I would have tried. I'd reached a tipping point, Mulder, and I couldn't stay balanced on the peak of that triangle any longer. It was time to fall, to one side or the other. With you in every way, or… without you. I couldn't do the balancing act any longer. It was breaking me. I needed things to change."

"Delta." He traced a triangle over the side of her hip.

"Yes."

He was quiet again for a minute and she could practically feel him thinking. "Is it petty to say that I'm jealous?"

Scully gave a harsh chuckle that was mostly without mirth. "After the way I've acted around Diana, I don't think I have any right to think it's petty to be jealous. Pot, meet kettle."

"True… but I didn't sleep with her."

She drew in a hard and sudden breath at the sting his words caused in her chest. "I guess I deserved that."

"Do you regret it?"

"I know it would be easier for you to forgive my actions if I did," she said after a long pause. "I know that if our situation was reversed, I would be feeling hurt. Jealous. Betrayed." The last word came out as a whisper. "I know that's selfish. I just want you to know that I didn't act this way to try and hurt you or punish you… or myself. It wasn't about wanting to feel desired or noticed. It wasn't like before, with Ed."

Mulder didn't say anything, so she went on, filling the silence, trying to help him understand — needing for him to understand.

"It was a coming to terms, for me, personally. An evaluation of my life, my choices, my behaviours." Stella's words came back to her, and she murmured that echoed sentence into the darkness. "Sometimes we need something that we can only get from another human being and it's okay to want that." She wished she could see Mulder's eyes, to get a better read on his thoughts, but maybe it was better this way; letting the words ebb and flow between them, letting them fall wherever they might land. This was not a conversation for daylight.

"As much as I feel like it would be easier, I can't be sorry about what happened. It was what I needed at the time, and I don't know that we would be here right now if it hadn't. I can't guess at how things might have turned out if I hadn't gone to London, if I hadn't met her, if things hadn't happened how they did and when they did."

His voice was soft and low, tinged with fatigue and, if she wasn't mistaken, a sort of longing. She knew he wished he'd been the one to help her, that she hadn't turned to someone other than him. A stranger. "Was it because she was a woman? I didn't know that you… well, that you were attracted to, uh…"

She felt the rise and fall of his chest under her cheek, the comforting gallop of his heartbeat. "Yes and no, I suppose. I'd like to think that it wouldn't have mattered, that attraction can transcend the physical. I think I would have found myself drawn to Stella whether she'd been male or female. But, in this case, I think us both being women made it easier for me to let my guard down on an emotional level." She shifted from her side to her back, staring up at the ceiling, but keeping his hand in hers. "Does it make it easier for you, that I was with a woman rather than a man?"

"As much as I wish it didn't? Yes."

She stroked along the back of his hand with the pad of her thumb. "Women have always had a latent… appeal, I guess you could say, for me. I notice when another woman is attractive, but not in a competitive way. When I was younger, I felt more of a kinship with female celebrities than male ones. And, that's all it was for most of my life. It's only been in the last few years that I've felt more open to the idea that I was attracted to women as well as men and, in accepting that, I felt like I was accepting a part of myself that had always been there. As a rule, I think I'm more attracted to men than women. Everything I've ever fantasized about by myself has been based on a male/female scenario." She felt a slight blush creep into her cheeks and her voice hitched ever so slightly. He noticed. Of course, he noticed.

"Care to elaborate?"

It seemed ridiculous to be embarrassed when they were lying naked together in her bed. "You. Always you." She gave him a gentle nudge with her elbow.

"You can do better than that. Give me some specifics, here."

"Oh, God… okay… um… In the office — so many there. You taking me on your desk. Giving you a blow job while you sat in your swivel chair. Uh… Skinner's office. Sometimes he walked in on us and you would just keep going."

He turned his head towards her. "Really? I thought I was the only one who'd had that one. What else?"

She felt surge of relief. He wasn't leaving. While she was sure that they would revisit this conversation a few more times in the weeks that followed, he had at least seemed accepting of her honesty, and that was everything she could have hoped for. His hand slid up her chest to cup one of her breasts, his thumb tracing concentric circles around her areola to her nipple, making her breath quicken.

"Rental cars. The back seat. Me crawling over you to ride you in the driver's seat, neither of us being able to wait long enough to remove any clothing so you just unzipped your pants and hiked my skirt to my waist. You slide my panties aside as you enter me." She let out a low moan as he unexpectedly pinched her nipple between his fingers. "Me, bent over the front of the car, my arms stretched over the hood toward the windshield, and you taking me hard and fast from behind. You're losing control and you're begging me to come because you don't know if you can hold out any longer."

"Jesus Christ." His voice was gravelled with desire as he rolled over next to her and pulled her in close. His erection was already hot and hard against her back. He still wanted her. Fresh tears prickled in her eyes as she leaned her head back against his shoulder. Her hands found his, pushing his palms more firmly against her breasts. She needed this closeness, this connection with him, even more than she had the first time.

Her voice was tight and breathless. "Want me to stop?"

"Not a chance. Keep going." He gave a slow grind against her back, groaning a little as she pushed back against him.

She licked her lips, craving his mouth on hers, even though her lips still felt a little tender from their earlier love making. "Motel rooms. You unexpectedly pulling back the curtain and joining me in the shower, our skin slippery from soap, working each other up. You coming to my bed in the middle of the night, overcome with desire, not able to take it anymore. Sometimes me, doing the same thing to you… imagining the look in your eyes as you wake up to me taking you into my mouth."

It was getting harder to talk as he suckled and nibbled at the sensitive spot where her neck met her shoulders, one of his hands now anchored between her legs as he stroked her with his fingers and his body rocking against hers.

"More," he murmured into her skin. "Don't stop. I love your voice. I love knowing that you were imagining the same things I was."

"Your apartment. Your couch. Oh, God… that couch. Every time I sat on it, I thought about you sleeping there, you touching yourself while you were stretched out on it."

"Mmmm… all the fucking time. Thinking about you."

"On the floor, all the times we would be too frantic to even make it to the couch. Against the front door, banging into it so hard that the neighbours yell and it just makes you laugh as you keep pounding into me, harder and harder. On your mysterious water bed, watching ourselves in the mirrors." She gasped as he adjusted her position slightly and then slid inside her with an even stroke, filling her completely. She moaned and pushed back against him as he began to thrust slowly, his fingers still keeping their same rhythm against her slick flesh.

"Keep going." His lips moved up her neck in a series of wet, open-mouthed kisses until he stopped to suck on her earlobe before pulling it between his teeth and biting down on it gently.

"My… my apartment…" She was struggling against the arousal coursing through her, making it hard to think, hard to do anything other than give in to the crest her body was so desperately surging toward. "Bubble bath. You surprising me, pulling me gently out of the tub, making love on the bathroom rug. Me, sitting on the kitchen counter, both of us watching as you slide in and out of me, and I'm so wet. So wet for you."

A rumbling groan emerged from Mulder's throat as he bit down harder, the spike of pain in the midst of the overwhelming pleasure sending an equally strong pulse of desire to her core. Her nipples were tingly and hard. She was getting close, so close…

"Kitchen table. You going down on me. My legs over your shoulders as you devour me." She shuddered as the first distant thrum of her orgasm began.

"Scully…" Her name was a half growl, half whimper as his hips undulated faster. His fingers were frantic against her now. "Come for me. Want you to come first."

"My bedroom… Mulder…" She threw her head back against his shoulder as he gripped her even tighter. "My bed… just like this… just like… oh, God…" And she was coming, her whole body shuddering with the force of it. Mulder thrust a few more times before his own body stiffened and he groaned loudly as he pulsed inside her.

They stayed like that, his body fully wrapped around hers, as their breathing stilled and their bodies cooled. It felt incredible, to be overwhelmed by his presence — the full body sensation of skin against skin, his breath against her neck, the smell of sex, of him and her, his contented sigh, the firmness of his arms around her, holding her close. Her heart was so full that it felt like her chest couldn't possibly contain it, that it was about to soar away like a balloon.

"Scully?" He nuzzled the back of her neck with his nose.

"Yeah?"

"You're still my one in five billion. Nothing could ever change that."

She rolled over, with some difficulty as her entire body seemed to have turned to gelatin, so she could face him, stroking the contours of his face with her fingers. She pressed a soft kiss to his lips, still marvelling at the notion that she could. "And you are mine."

* * *

 _Only a short epilogue to go! Mega thanks to my fantastic beta, Josie Lange!_


	17. Epilogue

Sunday night… the weekends always seemed to vanish far too quickly these days. Mulder had taken to spending Friday and Saturday nights at her apartment but, at least for now, they were still spending their weeknights apart. Scully still needed her space, and they had both agreed that they needed to maintain their focus at work if they wanted to have any hope of getting the X-Files away from Diana and Spender.

But, despite their agreement, she missed him when he wasn't around, especially after having him to herself for two days. Sure, there were two toothbrushes in the cup beside her bathroom sink, and a razor and shaving cream on the counter. When she'd run out of coffee, the new bag of coffee beans she'd bought at the grocery store had been his favourite brand rather than hers. Last week, she'd found the shell from a sunflower seed in her shoe as she was lacing them up before her run.

She hadn't been annoyed. Ridiculously enough, it had made her smile.

Maybe, maybe someday sooner than she'd thought, things would change again. They could find a place of their own, something new to have together…

The phone rang and she glanced down at her watch. 6 o'clock, right on schedule.

"Hello?"

"Are you moping about again?" Stella's voice sparkled with humour.

"No," Scully answered indignantly, drawing the blanket up around her knees and reaching for her mug of tea. "I don't mope." She took a sip and set it down on the end table next to the couch.

"Of course you don't. That's why I make a point of calling you on Sunday evenings."

"How was your week?"

"Pretty rough, actually. I've been assigned to another set of serial sexual assault cases, likely at least two attackers working cooperatively." She was quiet for a moment. "I've done a lot of these, but you never truly get numb to the anger, to the violence, that's been inflicted."

"That's not a bad thing."

"No. No, it isn't."

Scully scrunched her toes under the blanket and took another sip of orange pekoe. "Mulder and I are being loaned out to Quantico the week after next. Some sort of training exercise. I never thought I'd be looking forward to teaching a batch of wet behind the ears recruits about decomposition and crime scene analysis, but it beats sitting at a desk."

"I'm sure you'll get the X-Files back. You're nothing if not determined."

Scully let out a small snort. "You think I'm determined? Wait until you meet Mulder."

"I can't imagine that would be a good idea."

"You might be surprised… I think you two would get on better than you think."

Stella made a soft huff, a little like a laugh. "Well… never say never. Perhaps some day."

"I'd like that," Scully said quietly. "Some day." I miss you, she thought, although she didn't say the words out loud.

They chatted for another twenty minutes about everything and nothing, until Stella muffled a yawn. "Bed time for me soon, I'm afraid. Up too late last night and it's time to pay the piper."

"I'm glad you called." The phone was pressed against her shoulder, her eyes closed, and she could hear the gentle sound of Stella's breath against the receiver. It was almost like they were in the same room together.

There was a long pause, long enough that Scully could imagine Stella saying, 'I miss you, too,' and then Stella's voice was in her ear, soft and low. "Good night, Dana."

"Good night."

She hung up the phone and finished her tea in quiet contemplation. She had tried her hand at normal relationships, and they had ended in disaster. Yet, somehow, she had managed to stumble into two very unconventional ones that ended up suiting her just fine. She shook her head. Life was funny that way. Things could change again tomorrow but, at least for now, her heart was full, and she was content.

* * *

 _And that's all - at least for now. I've had some thoughts for a sequel, so we'll see if the muse cooperates. Thank you to everyone for reading and especially to those who took the time to leave a comment. I appreciate the support! And, of course, a super special thank you to my wonderful beta, Josie Lange, for slogging through another long story with me and for all her helpful advice and corrections. :)_


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